WINTER IN BROOKLYNDecember 1971-March 1972

WINTER IN BROOKLYN

December 1971-March 1972

RICHARD GRAYSON

Superstition Mountain PressPhoenix – 2010

Copyright © 2010 by Richard Grayson. All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America.

Superstition Mountain Press4303 Cactus RoadPhoenix, AZ 85032

First Edition

ISBN 978-

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

For Peter Spielberg

Winter in Brooklyn:December 1971 – March 1972

Wednesday, December 22, 1971The first day of winter and the shortest day of the year.

I had a strange dream last night: Jerry appeared in it. In recent dreams about him, my feelings were naturally hostile, but in this one, he was so nice. We started talking and he was telling me how hard things were for him and he started crying and shaking. And I held him in my arms like a child, comforting him until Shelli arrived. But it’s only a dream.

I drove to school and finally found parking. Stacy left me a handmade Christmas card in my mailbox. Yet I didn’t see her all day, and when I called, she sounded distant. Stacy is so complex, I don’t think I’ll ever figure her out.

I sat for awhile in LaGuardia talking with Timmy; I feel kindly toward him and think he’s going to accomplish a lot someday. In Poli Sci Vince lectured on parties and after class he okayed my term paper topic, a comparison of the British Liberal Party and the German Free Democrats.

Next door to the Poli Sci Department, I found Gary and Kjell doing the experiment Gary’s been working on, and I volunteered to be a confederate. We tried to see if the subject would go along with the rest of us in giving the wrong answers on a perception test, but the subject caught on to what we were doing.

Back in LaGuardia, I met Ellen and Vlad, visiting from Boston. Laura was very upset about something with her family, especially her mother, and Jill was trying to help her. Laura and I went out for bagels and orange juice, stopping to stay goodbye to Steve Sasanoff, who was leaving for Florida.

When Laura and I returned, Snake joined us in the Sports office and we ate and talked. I’ve never seen Laura so down; she kept saying what a rotten Christmas it would be and how everything would be simpler if she just died.

Snake said he’s going to look for a job when he graduates next month, then he’s going to grad school in September and later perhaps teaching here at BC.

I left school at 3 PM, took Gary home, then came to m house. Mom and Dad and the boys are getting ready to leave tomorrow for Paradise Island. I hope everything goes smoothly and Jonny will be okay; he can’t seem to shake the stomach virus he had last week. But I suppose things will work out.

Thursday, December 23, 1971A strange day. The holiday season is upon us, now I’m alone and little tired and a bit sad. They say that this is the time of year when the suicide rate goes up; I can understand that.

When I awoke this morning, everyone was gone. Mom, Jonny and Sammy left on a morning flight to Nassau; Marc had a test so he and Dad took off this afternoon.

I decided to skip English and instead took a drive on the Belt Parkway to Bay Ridge; the drive relaxed me as I watched the cool blue water of the Narrows and the majestic Verrazano Bridge.

When I got to LaGuardia, I gave Mikey his birthday presents, the Love Story soundtrack album and an autographed

photo of Luci Johnson Nugent. Mikey cracked up.

In Poli Sci, Berkowitz discussed revolution. Scott and went back to LaGuardia, where I bought $5 worth of grass from him. Stacy and Steve wanted to go for pizza, but also with Stacy’s friend Robbie - and with Shelli.

On the way to Flatbush Avenue, Jerry met Shelli, slobbered over her, but he didn’t come into the pizzeria with us. And when we brought the pizza back to the Spigot office for a party, Shelli joined us, but Jerry did not.

Shelli was friendly to me and told me Teddy Bear (“your son”) lost a leg in an accident and complimented me on my leather jacket. But I’m not going be taken in by her again – although with Stacy holding hands with Robbie, I could have used some loving.

I smoked for awhile with Stacy, Timmy, Scott and Avis; then Leon told me he was filming at Riis Park and to meet him there, so I went home and then to the park.

But no one was there – except a 25-year-old guy in a blue car. I could see him staring at me funny, so I got in my car. He got in his car. And everywhere I drove, at each turn, he was following

me. Though it seemed funny a first, I got scared and finally lost him back over the bridge in Brooklyn.

Finally, on the beach, Leon filmed me, Timmy, Steve Cohen, Lois, Howie Blount, Carl Karpoff and two kids from Rockaway, Bart and his girlfriend, at whose house we later warmed up in with hot cocoa.

I drove Robert home; he said he likes Columbia grad school and that he convinced Alice to come to the Safari Awards.

I made myself dinner and then Gary dropped by on his way from work. But he had to leave and now I’m alone with a cup of sassafras tea and a joint.

Friday, December 24, 1971Christmas Eve. ’Tis the season to be jolly, right? Well, I’m not feeling very jolly tonight. I woke up with a bad sore throat and nasal congestion and felt sort of weak and blah all day.

It’s probably from being on the beach without a coat yesterday. The things I do for Leon Fish… But he’s been very nice to me lately. Elihu told me that he, Jill and Suzanne are boycotting the Safari Awards this year. Elihu finds fault with everybody: Leon, Scott, Jerry (though I may agree on the latter) and

I’m getting a little annoyed at him. Anyhow, I enjoyed being in Leon’s movie and I enjoy being his friend, just as I enjoy being Scott’s – even though Scott and Leon despise one another.

Grandpa Herb and Grandma Ethel slept over last night, and now that I’m sick, I’m kind of glad they’re here. Grandpa Herb is still very worried about the condition of the Slack Bar. Uncle Marty called last night, wanting to speak to Dad. I think the Slack Bar may be going the way of the Pants Set, into bankruptcy.

I felt really wretched all day and stayed in – it was cold, drizzly, dreary – and watched soap operas. Is life a soap opera? One whose option is always being renewed, for it never seems to end. We’re down to the last week of 1971, and I feel things are just beginning.

I look back at this year and all that has happened and I say to myself, “What do I have to show for it?” Memories: some good, many bitter. I had love – and then it died. I tried – and I got hurt. Yet I’m going to try and love and hope and wish for a better tomorrow.

Although I’m alone now and – for all the many friends I have – lonely, things will be better. There’s no real basis for

saying that except it’s in my nature. Oh, I complain and kvetch a lot, but deep down (and this would surprise everyone) I’m an optimist.

I spoke to Gary this morning; his dog’s illness is getting worse. He invited me to have dinner with his family, but I didn’t feel up to it.

I was at the school library today and ran into Jill, who was working hard. Scott called tonight to say that he’s staying over at Avis’s and he told his parents he’d be at my house, so I shouldn’t call later to ask to speak to him. I offered to have Avis’ birthday party at my house. But then I’d have to invite Shelli and Jerry. To be continued…

Saturday, December 25, 1971A dreary Christmas. I feel ill and depressed. I should have gone to Paradise Island with the family. I could use the warmth of an orange Caribbean sun on my face. Why didn’t I go? Because (at least so my rationalization went), there were all these term papers and the Safari Awards and Avis’ birthday and New Year’s Eve. Well, I’d trade it all in a second for one tropical breeze.

I woke up feeling shitty and feel even worse tonight: my throat aches, my sinuses are stuff and I have diarrhea. “But enough from you, you old

hypochondriac. You’re always sick anyway and I suppose you think you’ll die during the night.” “Damn right.” (The preceding was a dialogue between me and me.)

Anyway, this morning after breakfast, I drove to Rockaway and found Grandpa Nat and Grandma Sylvia on the boardwalk. They both had good Florida tans and looked relaxed although Grandpa Nat complained of a pain in his chest.

It was a sunny day and on the boardwalk it felt warm and I lingered in Rockaway until early afternoon. Then I drove back home and had lunch. I called Avis, who was similarly alone at home. Scott, she reported, had a good time when he slept over at “my” house last night.

I spent the rest of the afternoon reading Burns’ The Deadlock of Democracy, which I have to write a report on for Berkowitz. I was interrupted by a call from Gary, who’s the one using my house as an excuse tonight; he’s really staying around the corner at Eileen’s place.

I called Scott, who was also studying for Foreign Policy, and told him I’d be glad to have Avis’ party at my house Monday night, and I had no problem with inviting Shelli and Jerry. It made me feel good when Scott said he didn’t really like

Jerry.

I told everyone that I’m going on a date tonight, when in reality I’m going stir crazy alone in the house (Grandpa Herb and Grandma Ethel went to Aunt Claire’s). We shall see if I survive Christmas night.

Sunday, December 26, 1971A good, restful sleep made me feel just fine when I arose early this morning at 8 AM. I opened my shades and it was a mild, grey day and I was glad to be alive. So I cleaned up the house, got dressed and had a well-balanced breakfast.

Then I left the house and got into the car and drove on the Belt Parkway. For the first time I drove through the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel – it was a snap – and then up the West Side Highway, just as I’ve seen Dad do dozens of times.

The first place I went to was Franklin School on West 89th Street by the park. I spent only one school year there – and only from October ’65 to May ’66 – but I don’t think I’ll ever forget that place. It was the year that I failed to cope with growing up – which is what I’m belatedly trying to do now.

I had a terrible urge to go to the bathroom, but the Museum of Natural History was closed and I began driving

around frantically until I got to Lincoln Center, where I was able to relieve myself in Philharmonic Hall.

There was no traffic at all, so I drove the Pontiac slowly down Fifth Avenue. I went to the giant Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center; it was beautiful. And all the stores and buildings look so nice this time of year; even the people in Manhattan seem to have gotten a whiff of the magic of the season.

I drove down to the Village and went in for a burger and tea at Nathan’s, then looked around Washington Square. As I was driving, I saw a sign saying “Holland Tunnel,” said what the hell and went under the Hudson to New Jersey.

There wasn’t much there to see – Jersey City must be the ugliest place on earth – and I soon came back, but I was proud I could drive to New Jersey by myself without an anxiety attack.

Then, back in Brooklyn, I went to see Carnal Knowledge at Georgetown. It was good, but the attitude toward sex expressed by the characters appalled me. After two months of chastity, I miss lovemaking. And I’m going to find another girlfriend. I need a girl: all day I look at their breasts and their hair and their legs and I get so horny I could burst. There are several girls I’d like to

go to bed with: Stacy, her sister Leslie, Michelle from The Grapevine, and a few others.

Scott said to cancel Avis’ party. He said (was he sincere?) that they both had too much schoolwork.

Monday, December 27, 1971A cloudy, mild day; I arose late this morning.Last night I spoke to Alice. She and Robert went out the other night, and they’ll be at the Safari Awards. I took a drive out to Green Acres this morning and I bought a birthday gift for Avis: a small gilded chain with a Chinese symbol that supposedly means “long life.”

Back at home, I had lunch and drove Grandma Ethel to Kings Plaza. From there I went to Avis’ apartment in Philip Howard, but no one was home, so I continued down Flatbush Avenue downtown until I got to Dr. Wouk.

We had a good session today. As the year ends, it is time for reflection, and we decided that 1971 was a very good year for me. I had a relationship with a girl and I survived the breakup of that relationship and I made a lot of friends and I’ve done more things on my own.

After my therapy session, I did find Avis at home by herself. She liked the gift

and kissed me on the cheek. I sat in her bedroom with her, she in a teddy-bear rocking chair that was Scott’s birthday gift.

Apparently Scott’s story about all his schoolwork is true because Avis said he can’t see her tonight and she wanted to go to the movies with me. But I didn’t really feel like it and made an excuse.

Avis and I talked about Stacy (who’s now a trip with Timmy to Virginia). Avis says Stacy’s very into herself, and I’m afraid that’s true.

I saw a card with Shelli’s handwriting, and out of morbid curiosity, I guess, I picked it up. It was a printed, embossed holiday card that said “Peace…Shelli & Jerry.” I felt a bit down when I saw that and went home for supper.

I needed to think, so I took a long drive into Manhattan and back. Earlier I had spoke to Laura, who was crying; she has family problems but the main thing that’s scaring her is graduation. It was easy for me to tell Laura, “Life is what you make it,” but can I apply that to myself?

As I drove by the lake in Prospect Park, I thought, what I said is true. I have so much. I want to share it with other people, especially one particular person.

And I’m sure she exists – somewhere.

I had a good talk with Gary later. He thanked me for making his weekend pleasant. Gary said that he and Kjell saw what was happening to me with Shelli “but we really couldn’t do anything.” Tuesday, December 28, 1971This holiday season is mild and fair, although we did have some rain last night. Grandpa Herb came home from work with a bad cold yesterday. Today was his day off, and he rested and seems to be better. I had a restless night and woke up feeling lousy.

I guess every time I see some new evidence that Jerry and Shelli are a permanent thing, it upsets me. They’re not ready to be married, but it’s nice, I guess, to have something permanent, especially if you’re as neurotic as they are.

I’m neurotic too, but at least I realize that. I was talking to Gary last night and we decided that Kjell and Sharon are in a similar situation: they’ve been going together for years, but can they be sure of what they’re getting into?

I don’t want to get married for years. I do want to love a girl and I want a girl to love me. And with each passing day, I

feel more confident that eventually there will be a girl. It may not be for months, but I can be patient – although I’m not going to sit on my ass and wait for some girl to come to me magically.

Mikey called me to ask about the term paper he’s doing for Fuccillo. After I hung up with him, I decided to work on my own paper. I drove to the school library, listening on the radio to Mayor Lindsay, in Miami, declare his candidacy for the Democratic presidential nomination.

I worked in the library for two hours, meeting Joel Scherman, who said he now has a good chance for a C.O. deferment. Then I came home and spent the afternoon working more on my Poli Sci paper.

Ray phoned, inviting me to a New Year’s party at his girlfriend’s house in East Flatbush. I was glad that they thought of including me; as Laura said yesterday, “It’s so nice to have friends.” I’ve also been invited to Eileen’s and at Bruce Winofsky’s, but I don’t know too many people at those places so if I don’t get any more invites, I’ll to Ray and Robin’s party.

Tomorrow night is the Safari Awards and I found out from Laura why Jill and Elspeth aren’t going: they’ve mad at

Leon for not consulting them regarding the Faculty Council demonstration, which embarrassed them as student members of the Curriculum Committee.

Uncle Isaac was in surgery for six hours, but the doctors hope for the best. I hope so, too. My great-uncle has had a hard life.

Wednesday, December 29, 1971As the year comes to an end, I feel that things are definitely going to be better in 1972. And this was generally a good year, so 1972 should be terrific. Everything will not go well, certainly; there will be downs as well as ups, but as I said to Dr. Wouk, if there are no downs, how can distinguish and enjoy the ups?

I slept decently last night, and this morning I finished my term paper on the German and British parties for Prof. Fuccillo. I drove to the college this morning and walked into LaGuardia. No one was there except for a few secretaries in the Dean’s office.

LaGuardia lobby seems so strange without people; I’ve spent a good deal of the past year, and so many things have happened in that place. I suppose the lobby doesn’t have any special qualities, but all the people whose lives are connected there: what makes them stay

there?

I met Gary, but he was on his way to talk to his lab teacher and didn’t have time to chat. Mikey and I waited in the Poli Sci office for Vince, but after an hour, I gave up waiting and went home.

Grandma Ethel said that Leon had called. I couldn’t imagine why he had called me. “Leon doesn’t call people,” I told Grandma. It all became clear later: he wanted to borrow my movie projector for the Safari Awards tonight.

I went over to Leon’s house and we screened the movies that he’ll show later this evening. He lost some footage, but the films came out nicely. I enjoyed them, anyway.

At home again, I got a call from Alice, and I agreed to pick her up tonight so she can meet Robert at the awards. The invitations read “9:23 PM” – very Leonlike – and he says it may not end until 3 AM. I don’t really want to stay that long.

Come to think of it, I’m not sure that it’s going to be much fun with eighty or ninety people crammed into that little basement on Snyder Avenue. But it’s “the social event of the year,” right?

And Leon told me that I’m going to be

giving out the award for Worst Supporting Actress, which Anne Wiazemsky has won the last two years and for which she’s nominated again. So I’ll go and try to have a tolerable time.

Thursday, December 30, 1971Last night was the Tenth Annual Safari Awards. When Alice and I got there, most people hadn’t arrived, but within the hour, they were there. So many faces: Jane Graves and Jon Aiuto, Chuck and Barbara O’Bannon, Gary Hazen, Lou Marcus, Bob Miller and Estelle, Donald, Bud Lipp, Bill Kirsch, Alex and Sherie, Rosie Blanchetti, Mikey and Mike and Steve Cohen and Steve Cooper, Bert Wolf, the Karpoff twins, the Friedberg brothers, Stanley, just about everyone who is anyone in our circle.First came the mingling. Shelli and Jerry came over to me, and Jerry shook my hand and we all talked pleasantly. And during the award ceremony itself, I wasn’t even upset when Leon called up me and Elspeth (“winners of the Harold Stassen medal”) to give out the award for Worst Supporting Actress – the joke being that me being dumped for Elspeth’s ex-fiancé makes us both losers, ha ha. Well, not as big as Anne Wiazemsky, and anyway, afterwards I found out some people assumed Elspeth and I were brother and sister.)

Later, when Jerry mispronounced WR:

Mysteries of the Organism as “Mysteries of the Orgasm,” I made sure to laugh loudly. As I whispered to Elspeth as we made our way to the “stage,” “We’ll bring this off with dignity.”

Leon ran everything so beautifully and he put so much work and planning into making the Safaris good; the trophy this year was the head of Sen. “Scoop” Jackson surrounded by sparklers. I talked with people I haven’t seen in ages; it was so nice for us to all get together again.

Alice enjoyed the whole thing, and as I told her, I don’t think of the eighty or so people in that room, there was one I really disliked. Leon’s movie was the highlight of the evening, of course.

Alice and I didn’t stay for the screening of Targets, which Leon showed on my projector. All in all, a memorable evening.

Today was a rainy day, and I felt tired the whole day and didn’t do much. I took Grandma Ethel home to Rockaway; talked with Gary on the phone (Eileen asked me to her party tomorrow night); met Alex and Sherie in Kings Plaza and shopped with them (I bought two shirts); and thought about last night. Jill, Elihu and Suzanne were noticeable by their absence, but I suppose that’s their

business and that was the point of boycotting.

Tonight we had a Mugwump meeting at Harry’s house. His parents are away, and Fern, who’s staying with him, had a stomach virus and looked awful. Gary, Arnie, Mike, Mikey, Steve Cooper, Mel, Mason and I bullshitted for a while and then got down to business: this election we’re going to be the ones to fight dirty.

It was terribly foggy driving home tonight. I spoke to Mom, who was at Aunt Sydelle’s; their flight back had been delayed by fog but they’ll be home from Cedarhurst soon.

Whew! Leon was certainly wrong: with all the friends I have, I can’t possibly be a loser. Friday, December 31, 1971The last day of 1971. As I write this, there are only a few hours left in the old year. It was a very good year, despite a couple of setbacks and sorrows. I shall be sad to see it go, but I am looking forward with hope and excitement toward 1972.

The family looked tanned and rested when I saw them last night and said they had a very good time in Nassau. I slept late this morning and was awakened by Gisele when she came in to clean my

room. She told me that she had gotten involved with this company, “Holiday Magic,” which would teach her how to sell things, “become a master,” and get very rich.

Gisele borrowed money and gave them a teller’s check (which can’t be stopped) for $1,000 and is now obligated to make more monthly payments. Sensing a scam, I called the DA’s office and now Gisele will go downtown and explain it to their fraud investigators.

I called Gary to wish him a happy new year; he’s spending with Eileen at her house around the corner. He told me, “Don’t get too maudlin tonight; think of the future and not the past.” And I’m going to try to do that.

For weeks I’ve been sending myself postcards from the past: “Having wonderful time. Wish you were here. - Richie.” Well, that’s going to stop.

I went to the college library to get out a book for my paper and I met Scott there; he said he couldn’t handle a big New Year’s Eve party and said that if I wanted, I could join him and Avis at his place tonight.

I stayed awhile at the current periodicals desk, talking with Ray and Carole. Then Carole punched out and I drove her

home. Though a JAP (she talks of nothing but engagements, hers and other people’s), Carole is sweet; she kissed me and said I deserve a good new year.

Dad came home early, with news that Lennie has bought the Nemerson and Dad may go in with him on it. In any case, when the hotel reopens this spring, we should have a lot of fun up in the Catskills.

I took a drive at dusk along Kings Highway. The sky turned reddish and finally black, and the moon was big and silvery. May we all be at peace in the coming year, and let me let myself be happy.

Saturday, January 1, 1972The new year began pretty well. I am going to keep in mind my two New Year’s resolutions: to stop reminding myself of past unhappiness and to let myself be happy in the future. For I want 1972 to be a good year.

Last night I went over to Scott’s house, and he said to me, “Richie, I sure hope 1972 will be a better year for you than this terrible one was.” When I protested that I felt 1971 was a good year for me, neither he nor Avis believed me.

But life, despite its ups and downs, is

generally a delightful experience. There’s so much that I want to do in this year. I’m going to put some effort and joy into living, or try to, and we’ll see what happens.

Last night Scott, Avis and I made our own bagels from a recipe in this magazine. Scott’s next door neighbor Sal, a pleasant guy – gay, I think – came over and the four of us smoked grass and told stories and we had a nice time.

But at 11:30, after Sal left, I could sense that Scott and Avis wanted to be alone, and though they protested mildly, I kissed my two friends Happy New Year and left them, so in love, to see in the New Year together. “Alone at last!” I heard Scott shout once the door was closed behind me, and I smiled.

I was in Ray and Robin’s apartment when the clock struck midnight, feeling a bit uncomfortable as I knew only a few people there, like Mark Friedberg. But Mark Savage and Consuelo arrived soon after.

They’re looking well. Consuelo was as effusively affectionate as ever, and Mark said the job was going fairly well, that he and Consuelo may be moving soon.

I came home and slept late this morning,

having breakfast at noon. I drove into the city for a bit, then to Rockaway for lunch with Grandma Sylvia. Grandpa Nat was again complaining of chest pains. Worried, I urged him to see a doctor.

I spent the rest of the day at home, watching old movies and trying to amuse Jonny, who’s in bed with a cold. Marc is having a small party for some friends tonight, and Mom and Dad went out for the evening, so I just relaxed. If only I could imagine what will fill the rest of these pages…

Sunday, January 2, 1972A steady, cold rain fell all day. I slept restlessly but woke up feeling refreshed. I had an early breakfast and decided I would do something a little different today. So I gassed up the car and drove off.

Sometimes the only time I really free is when I’m driving on the parkway at a fast, steady pace. The water in the Narrows was choppy and the skies were dark. I went through the Battery Tunnel onto the West Side Highway, getting off at 72nd Street. I drove crosstown through Central Park and found a parking spot on Madison Avenue.

I can’t understand why I never used to go to Manhattan before. Now it’s like a

whole new world has opened up: a magic city for me to explore and experience.

This morning I went into the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I gave a dollar donation, and for an hour I immersed myself in beauty: Van Gogh, Seurat, Vermeer, Picasso, Gauguin, so many beautiful paintings. And from all the Art courses I‘ve taken, I‘ve gained a lot and I can spot and recognize paintings and painters‘ styles so I can enjoy them more.

The most beautiful thing was the Christmas tree at the Neapolitan crèche. I left the museum and walked in the rain for awhile and stopped for tea at a coffee shop. Then, back in the car, I drove over the 59th Street (feelin’ groovy, Simon & Garfunkel) Bridge and decided to visit Aunt Sydelle.

I had no trouble getting to Cedarhurst from Queens and didn’t get lost once. Uncle Monty answered the door, and he and Sammy were watching football games in the den. So I had lunch with Aunt Sydelle and we had a good talk; she’s really a fine person.

She said, after I told her the whole story of my relationship, that Shelli was a “monstrosity,” in looks and everything else. She also said she was glad that Merryl and the twins are no longer living

with them even though it may bother Monty not to have his daughters in the house.

Back in Brooklyn, I spoke to Gary. Eileen’s New Year’s Eve party ended disastrously when Kjell and Sharon and another couple left abruptly when they discovered the others smoking. Eileen was very upset and this upset Gary.

I went to Leon’s house to pick up the projector. He was in the middle of filling out “statements of purpose” for grad schools. I have so much work to do, as I accomplished next to nothing during the vacation.

Monday, January 3, 1972Getting back to the old grind can be gratifying, but it’s also pretty tiring. It’s my own fault, of course; I did next to no work on my papers during the holidays.

So for the past six hours I’ve been at the books and the typewriter. I completed the paper for Merritt, but Berkowitz wanted 15 pages and so far I’ve got only three. Scott said he wasn’t handing his in until Thursday, so I’ll take my chances with him.

Today was one of those mild, sunny days that pop up in midwinter now and then. I took the car to school and returned to LaGuardia.

Going in to talk with Mrs. D, I met Abe Cofner and kidded him about having his photo and comments in a Time story about his Democratic club and how he’s a hack. But Abe is an affable guy and he’s going to go places politically if he cares to.

It’s 1972 and Presidential candidates are coming out of the woodwork every day – Ashbrook, Muskie, Hartke – but no one catches my imagination.

Steve Cooper and Mikey said we’re going to take a group Mugwump photo for the campaign, sort of like the Eyewitness News team, and we’re putting out a leaflet that reads “Harold Schwartz: Wanted for Treason.”

I handed in my Poli Sci paper to Mr. Kassiola, as Vince Fuccillo wasn’t in today, and then returned to LaGuardia and sat around with a weird combination of people: Scott and Avis, Sherie, Gary and Leon. Dick Cioffi came in, still unemployed; he’s going to try to fight the transit fare increase necessitated by the recent union contract.

Most everyone went to Leon’s showing of Gimme Shelter, but I headed home. On the way, I bumped into Estelle and Bob Miller, and I wished him a good year in Georgetown Law.

After lunch, I went to see Dr. Wouk. He said he’s not worried about my finding another girl. Neither am I, really; there will be someone, if not sooner, then later.

I now realize that everything that happened with Shelli and me was for the best. Had we gone on, we would have destroyed each other.Mostly I feel relief that the whole affair is over. But it was a good and necessary experience, for Shelli as well as for me.

Tuesday, January 4, 1972I awoke from a deep sleep feeling tired, and an aura of weariness pervaded the whole rainy day.

This morning in English, we did Browning – I enjoy him – and I gave Prof. Merritt my paper, which was not very good. In LaGuardia, Mikey told me that if I didn’t want to run for rep this term, I didn’t have to because he and Mike found a whole bunch of people to run.

I didn’t have time to reply, as I hurried off to Poli Sci, where Prof. Berkowitz continued his discussion of revolution. Most kids handed in their papers today. I have almost finished mine, which has to be in by Thursday.

Leaving class, Scott asked me if I wanted to take a drive with him to the

Grand Army Plaza library, but as I entered LaGuardia, I was swept up in a crowd gong to the Pub. Stacy, Steve Cooper, Carl Karpoff, Mike and I went for a pleasant lunch of burgers and onion rings.

While I’d pretty much written Stacy off, today I again was mightily attracted to her. It may have something to do with the miniskirt she was wearing, revealing firm legs and creamy thighs. Or perhaps it has to do with my dreaming last night that we slept together.

But as Harry put it once, crudely but succinctly, “Does she fuck?” The answer’s no, although she gives the impression that she’d sleep with any of the four guys lunching with her.

I hung around the lobby for awhile with Carl, Stacy, Gary (beaming because Prof. Kiraly gave him an A on the paper) – and then Larry Farber and I decided we’d better see Peter D’Amato. We dutifully distributed the copies of Mother, as Peter requested.

When I returned to LaGuardia, Elspeth, Shelli and Suzanne were lunching at the desk. I asked for Stacy, and Shelli said he was downstairs in the Kingsman office. I found Stacy playing her new song into Leroy’s tape recorder; it’s damn good and I told her so, but she

said she knew it was very good. A lack of confidence is not one of her problems.

I walked Leon to the Junction and went home to work on my paper. Dad says that Lennie’s decided to rename the Nemerson the Paradise Inn and will open it for Easter. The doctor found nothing wrong with Grandpa Nat’s heart; the chest pain comes from too much smoking.

Wednesday, January 5, 1972It was a pretty good day, at least until a few minutes ago. I was walking downstairs to the kitchen when I slipped and fell down three steps, landing smack on my ass. Nothing broken, but I ache all over and will be black and blue by morning.

This morning, a light, wet snow was falling as I drove to school. I decided to cut my class and headed for LaGuardia. I gave Stanley his birthday present, a book, 365 Ways to Cook Hamburger.

Shelli waddle in, all little-girl demure and cutesy, and gave Stanley the present she and Jerry got him. If I sound nasty, I’m just tired of her immaturity – and embarrassed by it. She’s like a child; she lisped to Laura, “I’ll mith you.”Well, I don’t miss Shelli.

I sat around the lobby for awhile, with

Jacob, Stanley, Marty, Gary and the others. At noon we were scheduled to take a Mugwump group photo, and everyone from Mel to Sandy showed up. Unfortunately, Juan didn’t show up to take the picture.Stacy and I went to the delicatessen, walking there through the snow, joined by Mason and Mikey. Stacy had an interview with the alumni for a scholarship at Leeds, so we ate quickly.

Mikey, Mike and others met with Chancellor Kibbee last night and they say he’s just another administrator from downtown. Mason hasn’t been seeing that much of Libby lately; they’ve been quarreling, and I know how that is.

Back in LaGuardia, I read Snake’s farewell column, which was good. He wrote about what it was like to be a superstar in LaGuardia lobby but said “we are all superstars.”

As graduation approaches for Snake, Steve Sasanoff, Laura, Jill, Jacob, Marty and others, they each tell me that they’re feeling a bit disoriented and frightened, especially the girls.

Downstairs, I talked with Leroy and Ronna. Seeing Ronna reminded me of Ivan, whom I haven’t seen in weeks.

I drove home and finished my paper for

Berkowitz; it’s C stuff, like all my papers this term. It just wasn’t my semester, and I’ll do better in the spring. Finished with work, I relaxed by reading and was about to make myself a cup of tea when I slipped and fell just now – kind of funny, if you think about it.

Thursday, January 6, 1972A strange day. I’ve gone through so many different emotions today, I don’t know what I’m feeling except that my spirit is sort of burned out. I went to school today with Susan Felsher, who says her sister Riesa has a huge crush on Marc.

In English, Prof. Merritt had a discussion on Arnold, and he gave us the topics for the final, which will be due tomorrow. I half-finished it tonight and am going to do the rest of it in the morning.

During my break, I went into LaGuardia and sat around with Jill, Elspeth and Amy before Scott and I went over to Berkowitz’s final lecture of the term, and it was fantastic. But I was very disappointed that I only got a C+ on the midterm. All the marks were low, but I didn’t expect a C.

I wanted to have a quiet lunch, not with a mob of people, so Gary and I went to the pub for some good food and simple, irrelevant conversation.

Back in LaGuardia, Shelli approached me and showed me the letter she’d gotten from the Registrar; I got the same one. We’re registered in this Ed section with some teacher and she doesn’t know it’s the course we’re taking with Peter. I was distant with her and instead directed most of my conversation to Mason, Mikey and Steve Cohen.

I went to give Dick Pontone the sassafras tea I’ve been promising him, then came home, paying the new 35-cent fare on the bus. While I was walking on our block, I was witness to a horrible car crash.

I don’t think I shall ever forget that screech. I ran to see the woman in the car; she was all right but hysterical – “My baby! My baby!” – and I had to hold the baby next to her in my arms. Thank God the baby seemed okay.

I was so cool during the whole thing, but later, after the cops and ambulance came, I became very upset, unaware of the cause. I raged at Mom and Marc violently when I got home – until finally I started talking about the accident and I broke down and realized that was what was upsetting me, sort of a delayed reaction.

I got a call from Shelli tonight – at first I

didn’t recognize her voice – and she wanted us to go together to see this Ed teacher whose course we’re officially registered in. She asked if I was mad at her and she said she didn’t want to lose my friendship. Doesn’t she know I don’t want her back in my life again? She’s part of the past and it’s there she must stay.

Friday, January 7, 1972I haven’t decided if today was a bad day or a good one; so much happened. This morning I did my English final and then had a terrible fight with Mom which upset us both.

A wildcat strike halted most buses in Brooklyn, so I drove to school. In LaGuardia, Shelli was cold as she gave me back my form for the Ed teacher. I handed my paper into Prof. Merritt and then went to Prof. Fuccillo’s last class. It was the last day of the term and the last class ever for Laura and she was a bit tearful.

She, Snake and Steve Sasanoff wrote their farewell columns in Kingsman, and I guess they mean more to me because they’re by my friends. And a lot of my friends are graduating and the goodbyes were sad: a handshake from Jacob; a kiss for Lois; a “so long” to Rosie; a hug from Jill. But I guess I’ll be seeing them again – if the accident will.

I drove Jill home and I wished her all the happiness in the “real” world – “the shooting gallery,” as Snake put it. After lunch at home, I returned to LaGuardia, and the trio of Laura, Snake and Steve were getting thoroughly drunk at the Pub.

I sat around the lobby with Michelle and Stanley and Leon (who got Stanley a sled that said “Rosebud” for his birthday present). That place, the campus in general and LaGuardia lobby in particular, has held so much of my life. And a year and a half to come. Then what?

I overheard Mikey tell Marty, “Jerry got a job.” It’s with Larry Simon, the assemblyman, and Mikey said Jerry was leaving Sunday for Albany. And slowly the realization came: no wonder why, all of a sudden, my friendship means so much to Shelli.

When I got home, after first dropping Elihu off at his house, I called Gary. He knew about the phone call from Shelli because she had told him about it and (Gary said) how she was just doing me a favor. Later I called Shelli and apologized for being rude. She said she understood and I hung up as quickly as possible after talking briefly.

Today is Marc’s 17th birthday. Now he can legally drive. I gave him an ounce of grass for a present and the family took him out to dinner. I’m tired and going to rest tonight.

Saturday, January 8, 1972A cold, drizzly day. Last night we had a small birthday party for Marc, just the family and Marc’s friends Stephen and Cynthia. It was pleasant, though, and I enjoyed myself.

I awoke from my deep sleep not feeling very well; my sinuses flared up again and my head was as tight as a drum. But did I complain? Well, a little…but I just went about my business, trying to forget it.

I gave a lot of thought to the events of this week that concerned Shelli. Although I know it wouldn’t be good for either of us, I occasionally still harbor thoughts of getting back with her. But that’s only because I’m used to her and was once comfortable with her.

Deep down I know that I’ve got to strike out on my own and build a new loving relationship from the ground floor, starting with a foundation of trust. After all that’s happened, I could never trust Shelli, nor she me.

And Jerry is still her boyfriend and

Albany is not the moon and he’ll be back in town frequently. So that puts an end to that chapter of the story. Besides, I’ve changed in the past three months. For example, this morning I conquered another longstanding fear: I drove over the Verrazano Bridge to Staten Island and back.

Yet I had no sense of triumph, I guess because I had no sense of anxiety. My anxiety attacks have been growing less frequent and less acute, allowing me to do more and more things.

I bought a lot of herbs today and other natural foods, and I’m taking a lot of vitamins and I’m generally pretty healthy. And it really made me feel good yesterday when Michelle noticed how much weight I’ve lost. I’ve been doing yoga and isometrics. Though I have a long road to hoe, I have come pretty far.

Gisele came in today, and I took little Jeanette with me to the Junction and then we went to the BC library. I met Robert, home from grad school for the weekend.

I also accompanied Marc as he drove for the first time to Rockaway. He drives pretty well, although he’s not sure of himself yet.

I’m going to bed early tonight because of

my sinuses. I’m sure I shall survive. I feel as though I could survive anything.

Sunday, January 9, 1972A dreary, rainy Sunday. I felt rotten upon awakening this morning with a sore throat, stuffed sinuses and a bronchial cough. But as I wrote yesterday, I shall survive.

Perhaps, it occurs to me now, I was being overly generous in yesterday’s account of this pilgrim’s progress. I am still quite a hypochondriac and pretty much of an alarmist and a pessimist. I’m very dependent on some drugs: stomach remedies, tranquilizers, anti-histamines – and I can get very dependent upon people.

To sum up, I’d say that I’m still not a very easy fellow to live with – not even to live with myself.

After a late breakfast, I got into the car and drove off on the Belt. I was drowsy at the beginning, but as I got into Manhattan, I perked up at the thought of performing a mitzvah and visiting Uncle Isaac in the hospital.

But I didn’t really feel like a hospital visit and rationalized my not going by saying I couldn’t find a parking space. I rode all through the city today: the East Side, the West Side, the Village.

There is so much to see there, I wonder if anyone can really know Manhattan. I went into Times Square, seeing the building where the ball came down New Year’s Eve. Times Square is as ugly and perverse as people say. I spotted two unsavory-looking characters in the back of a police car.

Then I went downtown and under the tunnel to New Jersey. There is not much to explore in dreary Jersey City, a sad little place, so I came home via the Manhattan Bridge and Flatbush Avenue.

I spoke to Gary, who was studying hard for his Psych final tomorrow. Gary also has been ill with a severe sore throat and we commiserated for awhile.

It was raining hard for the rest of the day, so I stayed in, watching old movies and reading Robert Heilbroner’s The Great Ascent for Poli Sci.

After finishing, I called Alice, who starts her new job at American Girl magazine tomorrow. Next term she’ll be going to school at night. She said she’s been lonely, not having seen Andreas in weeks, as he’s been busy sculpting. Alice is one of the world’s nicest people.

Monday, January 10, 1972A mild, cloudy day. Not having any finals

until next week, I have this whole week to study and to relax a little. I slept late this morning, enjoying every minute of it. But after breakfast, I went – inevitably – to school.

I had to return some overdue books to the library. Meeting Scott on the way, I lent him my copy of The Great Ascent. In LaGuardia, I found Stanley, Elspeth, Avis and Teresa.

Elspeth was worried because she didn’t see Shelli at their Bio final. Elspeth called Shelli’s house but her father said she’d left for school. However, when I questioned Elspeth further, she said that the test was in Whitman Auditorium and she didn’t see Shelli there, either.

Stanley confessed that he was thinking of taking a leave of absence next term and just sit around and write a novel. But Mikey says Stanley will be back: “He can’t leave this place.” Mason looked awful today, very tired, and he said he was going to study in SUBO all night. I had lunch at home and then drove downtown to Dr. Wouk. We had a pretty good session. Dr. Wouk suspects I’ll be hearing more from Shelli, and “it’ll be interesting to see how you handle it.” I can hardly wait to find out how I’ll handle it myself.

At home again, I called Gary, who said

the Psych final was very difficult. When Dad came home today, he said he’d finally given in to Lennie and invested $10,000 for 10% of the hotel, now to be called the DeVille Country Club. That should bring some excitement to our lives, although it’s probably a bad investment.

I called Ivan, who said he’s been ill with the flu but who also said he may be at BC tomorrow. He’s decided not to go to Boston U until September, and instead he’ll work for his father in the spring. He was very gracious, but then Ivan always is.

Then I spoke to Brad, who told me I have a surreal life. He invited me to an all-male party but I said I’d be uncomfortable and declined. However, I’m becoming more comfortable with Brad; we’re able to discuss things about our relationship that we couldn’t before, and I think he’ll always be a friend.

Uncle Isaac came home from the hospital but he’s still very weak. Grandpa Herb called, saying that the Slack Bar will be closing this week. I guess they’re going bankrupt.

Tuesday, January 11, 1972The weather continues to be quite mild, although it’s been cloudy. I got up early this morning and drove over to Kings

Plaza.

At Macy’s Ticketron I got two tickets for the Don McLean concert at Carnegie Hall on February 18. I enjoy “American Pie” very much – I brighten up each time I hear it on the car radio – and I wanted to see him in concert.

As for the other ticket, that will hopefully be my date. I don’t want to ask anyone this far in advance, but there are several girls I wouldn’t mind taking out: Stacy, Leslie, Ronna, Amy, Susan.

I went to the college but found LaGuardia lobby deserted. Elihu came in and we had a few laughs reading a Rosicrucian booklet we’d swiped from Juan’s mailbox. Mike was busy studying for a test and I didn’t want to disturb him, so I left for lunch on my own.

When I returned, Leon and Marty were there, discussing the dozen or so Democratic Presidential candidates (the “newest” is old Hubert Humphrey); Marty said that McCarthy’s time has passed and Leon said, “Whose time is it?” Good question. Perhaps the next few months will supply the answer, as the New Hampshire primary is just two months away.

I spent some time talking to Edie, who’s a nice girl, if a bit dull. She promised to

give me a jar of grape jelly that she makes herself.

At home, I loafed most of the afternoon, accomplishing little. I spoke to Gary briefly; he’s so worried about that psych course. Later in the evening, seeking refuge from everyone at home, I took a long drive.

I went over the Verrazano Bridge, this time on the upper level, and in the misty night rode through Staten Island’s lonely country roads. I felt very peaceful, yet I have a feeling that whole new Pandora’s box is about to open for me.

The hotel deal is apparently sold, As Lennie’s partner and confidante, Dad should be in on pretty much everything. Hotels can make for pleasurable living and I’m hoping this hotel can brighten up and add some excitement into what is often a dreary life at home.Wednesday, January 12, 1972The “Pandora’s box” I wrote about last night opened a lot sooner than I expected it to. And tonight, after a day that was, well, difficult, I find myself not at all happy with the human being named Richard Grayson. I am scared and I am alone, but I guess I get what I deserve.

I went to school early today and met Avis in LaGuardia. She’s been so cool to me

lately. Later, I saw her and Shelli go someplace. I sat in the lobby and talked with Jill, Steve Sasanoff and Gary.

Shelli called Jerry from the phone booth and I surmised that he was home, ill. Later, however, Avis mentioned “the accident” and I said, “What accident?” Shelli said that that Jerry was hit by a car on Sunday.

Stunned, I heard her say it happened while they were crossing Kings Highway by her house at Church Avenue. Jerry was hurt pretty badly, and they rushed him to the hospital. I can’t remember the extent of his injuries, but Shelli said he can’t walk and she’s staying in Staten Island taking care of him.

I said I was sorry, but it was more than that. I feel incredibly guilty. Even last night I had a dream in which I hurt Jerry. And I wished bad things would happen to him. I know that, logically, wishing doesn’t make it so – Dr. Wouk, when I called him, reminded me I don’t have magical powers – but I felt (and still feel) crappy.

I had lunch in the Pub with Leon, Mason and Jacob, but I didn’t even taste the food or hear the conversation. I just don’t even know what I’m feeling, except I’m feeling bad. Poor Jerry. Just as he was about to start his job, too.

I couldn’t stay around the college and I just had to talk to someone, so I went over to Scott’s house. But he couldn’t understand the way I felt. He was upset because his father ordered him out of the house if he didn’t cut his hair and shave his beard.

I watched Scott shave the beard off, then went back to school. The one person I talked to who really understood what I was feeling was Susan. We ate with some others and afterwards she was so sweet.

But I got a different reaction when I called Stacy, who hung up the phone after hearing my name. I guess she’s mad at me, perhaps because something I said got back to her. When will I ever grow up? I don’t know what the hell is going on, and I feel very alone and unloved.

Thursday, January 13, 1972Not an easy day. I wished that when I woke up this morning, the world would be a bright, cheery place, with everything all right again. But when I got up from a few hours’ restless sleep, the sky was grey and things were still the same.

Everything seems so rotten. But was everything ever all right? All right, I’m

feeling sorry for myself. But it’s just that these past two days have taken back to those weeks last fall when I was so torn up inside.

It’s winter now, despite the spring like weather, but I’m still torn up inside. Shelli, Jerry, Stacy, Scott, Avis, Gary, Susan – how do I cope with all these people?

Well, I decided to start with Jerry. I bought him a get-well card that said “Friendship is forever.” But do I mean it? Have I gotten over losing Shelli yet and the hurt and the loneliness? Can I forgive? Questions, so many questions. But I have no answers.

I took a drive to Manhattan, but I just didn’t feel like going anyplace in particular so I ended up back at the college. In LaGuardia, Steve Cooper and Mikey were awaiting finals. Steve said that he didn’t know why Stacy was so mad at me. But I think it’s because I was talking about her to Mason and others, and she must have heard what I said. I suppose I’ll never learn.

Mikey said we’re taking the Mugwump photo tomorrow, and I’m apprehensive about facing Stacy. I talked for awhile with Susan. She really can be sensitive; she writes pretty good poetry. But she’s such a chatterbox. And anyway, why

should I get close to her? I’ll only mess up her life the way I’ve messed up everyone else’s, including my own.

Has all my soul-searching been for nothing? Am I still a selfish, self-centered, immature baby? I tried to study the rest of the day, but I felt nauseous and nervous. I’m not at all happy with myself. I wish I were far away, some warm and sunny place with calm blue water and lush trees. I just don’t know where I’m heading, and that scares me.

Friday, January 14, 1972It turned colder today. I’m remembering tonight what I said to Steve Cohen last week: “Sometimes you have a day when you just can’t make connections with another human being. And then – the very next day – you can get so close to people.”

Today was like that. I really felt as though I was communicating. I woke up early and went to buy two pairs of nifty shoes on Avenue J; it was at Dad’s friend’s store, so I didn’t have to pay.

I took a drive through Prospect Park, which was still and quiet, and I did some deep thinking. Now that Dad has actually bought 10% of the hotel, I’m beginning to get excited at the prospect of a more glamorous life. Mom, Dad and

Lennie are getting so involved; they’re going up to the Catskills tomorrow.

At school I went to the library to study, then ran into Elihu, who wanted to show me his new glasses. We went into LaGuardia lobby, and Dean West came over, in one of his friendly moods.

We discussed the ambiance of the lobby, and the dean said that the Dean of Students office will be moving into Boylan, and then LaGuardia will go back to being part of the library.

We took our Mugwump photo – with Harry, Fern, those “radical Zionists” whom I distrust, Mike, Mason and all the other people running on our slate. Some of the girls are quite pretty, and as we were going to lunch, Mason said that one, Arnie Ferkauf’s sister, “has nice nuptials.” I agree.

Leon, Mason, Mikey and I had a riotous lunch at Roma II. Everything was so pleasant, I wished things could always be like that. As the others went to the library, Leon and I hung around for awhile until I drove him home.

For the first time, he began revealing himself after I talked about my nervous breakdown. Back in October, Leon said, he was getting sick and became nauseous every time he left the house.

I really talked to people today, and I even had a nice, brief chat with Shelli’s first boyfriend Saul. This evening I called Gary, who’s been working like a dog because he’s so worried about his Experimental Psych course.

While the folks went out to eat, Cynthia came over looking for Marc. She had asked an old English teacher of mine, Mrs. Sanjour, about me. Mrs. Sanjour remembered me as “one of my best pupils ever.”

Saturday, January 15, 1972A cold, crisp midwinter day. I had an unusual dream last night: I awoke with the name “Zumwalt Omeletfreak” as memory of the dream. Weird.

Mom and Dad had already left for the country with Lennie when I got up. I made myself breakfast, then cleaned the house, and then I got down to the business of studying Comparative Politics.

I spent most of the day on that task and my eyes hurt and I’m kind of groggy, so I’m going to quit early tonight and watch Truffaut’s Jules and Jim on public TV.

I spoke to Grandma Ethel, who said it looks like the Slack Bar will close this

week. So Grandpa Herb will be sort of retired. He’ll enjoy it by staying home and loafing, I guess.

One man who can’t loaf is my other grandfather. Grandpa Nat went to Allentown, Pa., today, to check out the factory which supplies his goods. Grandma Sylvia wants to move to Florida for the winter because of her arthritis, but Grandpa Nat won’t quit the work he loves.

Ronnie Berman came in from Maryland today, and he was over the house with Marc for most of the day. I was disappointed to find that Prof. Merritt gave me a B in the class. This term is not exactly my best; in fact, it’s been a minor disaster, as Leon put it.

But I’m just going to try to get C’s in the two Poli Sci finals and courses and go on to next term. I hope the new term will be a productive and happy one, and I’m going to do my best. This semester the breakup really messed up my concentration on school.

Scott called me about Berkowitz’s final and we decided to get together on Monday to review for the test. Had had no inkling of the reason that Stacy was mad enough to hang up on me, and neither did Steve Cooper. Perhaps it’ll all blow over.

But now there are other girls I’m more interested in: Susan, Edie, that beautiful blonde sister of Arnie’s. Stacy is just too complicated for me to cope with.

Mom and Dad came back tonight and said the hotel is a bit dilapidated (“like Petticoat Junction”) but the grounds are vast and wooded, the rooms are nice – Mom will redecorate – and they’re enthusiastic. But Dad said he’s not sure if they can make a go of it.Sunday, January 16, 1972When I was a kid, I used to dread Sunday nights because it meant a whole week of school again, the end of my precious freedom for another five days. But now I relish these Sunday evenings. They give me time to reflect on the week past and plan for the week ahead.

I feel that these first weeks of 1972 are mere prologue for a drama which will shortly begin. But first I need to settle some things. Like my two finals I’ve been studying fairly hard for. Mom said she’s never seen me so worried about an exam.

All I want is to get these next two days over with, and with it this last term, and then have a few days of rest to prepare for what will hopefully be a good spring semester.

I watched Jules and Jim last night, and it was really great. I wonder if this whole thing with Jerry and Shelli might not be similar, but it was Jules – who was in my situation – who survived. I am, despite everything I say, a survivor, as somewhere within me there is a very strong will to live under endless complaints and neuroses.

It turned bitterly cold; the temperature did not rise above 15° all day. I awoke early, studied, had breakfast, and watched an interview with Gene McCarthy. It’s hard to believe he was once my hero; he’s so offhandedly cynical now. The other day Leon was putting him down, and Marty said, “Just who did he let down?” “His wife, for one,” I said.

I went out for a drive to Rockaway, to visit Grandpa Nat and Grandma Sylvia. We had a pleasant hour’s chat, about soap operas and business and such. I came home and spent the rest of the day studying.

The Dallas Cowboys won the Super Bowl, a good thing for Dad and Lennie, who bet $1000 on them.

Gary said on his date with Eileen last night he met Alan and Sherie, and they all went to the movies together. Later they met Eileen’s cousin Jill Erdman,

who said she knows me from P.S. 203 and the neighborhood, but I don’t remember her even though she’s the sister of Julie Budd, the singer.

Tonight Mom and Dad discussed redoing the hotel with this gay interior decorator who came over. The hotel is about all they are thinking about these days.

Monday, January 17, 1972I feel very tired now, but it’s a bit nicer than the feeling of despair that I had a few hours ago.

The Poli Sci 47.1 final was a killer, and to top it off, Fuccillo gave me a C+ on my paper. I just couldn’t bullshit on the test and wrote what I knew, finishing at 4:30.

But all around me, people were writing like mad, so I read my test over. Once. Twice. Three times. And those fools were still scribbling like crazy. By 4:50, I said the hell with it and handed in my test anyway.

I feel defeated and crushed. I’m going to get a C in that course. And tomorrow morning at 8 AM, I will seal my doom by getting a C in Foreign Policy.

What a bitch: two C’s in my major. But I just want to get it over with and by

tomorrow afternoon I’ll be free, with the last vestige of this disastrous term behind me.

I woke up early this morning, a little nervous about the test (justifiably nervous, it turned out). But to relax myself, I took a short drive on the parkway, and in Macy’s Ticketron I bought two tickets to a Kris Kristofferson concert at Lincoln Center.

The way things have been going lately, I probably won’t be able to scare up a human being who’ll want to go with me – not that I blame them.

After lunch, I drove to the college. Laura and a couple of others in my class were in LaGuardia, talking about the test to come, and I couldn’t hack that, so I did like Mason suggested (he also had a test at 3 PM) and took a long walk with him.

We ran into an old familiar face: Sandy Ingber. She’s back from San Francisco but hopes to return there in September to go to school. The SG Teacher Evaluation Booklet, put together by Craig Kutner, did come out – but it’s so bad it’s practically worthless.

Then Mason and I went to our tests, and then – for me – disaster! Ah, but soon it will all be over, and I can look forward to

a better tomorrow. Or a better day after tomorrow.

Tuesday, January 18, 1972I awoke at 6 AM for the Foreign Policy final. I didn’t sleep much last night, feeling anxious about the test. It’s strange getting up so early while the darkness is still upon the city. It’s a little eerie, but in a way, it’s nice, too, sort of peaceful.

I arrived on campus, finding a parking space easily, and met Scott, and together we went up for the test. Berkowitz sent a proctor who was twenty minutes late, and the test was ridiculous: we had to “imagine” ourselves in Henry Kissinger’s place and write position papers on several topics.

I bullshitted like mad and left the room early. The sense of freedom didn’t descend on me right away; I think I’m too exhausted to feel anything. I took a walk with Elihu, looking up teachers’ names; chatted with Sheila Rosenblum, and then went into LaGuardia.

Elspeth was there, packed suitcases and all; she was going to visit Peter Weber in Syracuse. And Mason told me Steve Cohen went to Florida, and I know Susan went up to the country, to Grossinger’s, with Timmy and a whole bunch of people.

I should get away – but where to go? Gary called me right after I got home. When I dropped him off at his apartment, he found that in his Experimental Psych course, he got an A in lab but a D in lecture. The lecture grade came about because the teacher used the first test to evaluate the grade, but he’d invalidated the first test because of cheating. Gary didn’t cheat, his mark was low, and he’s suffering. He’s going to the department chairman tomorrow, however.

We had a fascinating visitor this afternoon: M. Jean Groen, who came to touch up the furniture. A white-bearded Frenchman, he claimed to be 107 years old and is one of those real characters: a philosopher, vibrant, truth-seeking, knowledge-hungry – an inventor, theologian and rebel.

M. Groen said the most important thing in life is to know yourself and to be yourself and not to follow the crowd: “Be in the world, but not of the world.”

I feel lousy and hope I’m not falling victim to the flu epidemic.

Wednesday, January 19, 1972An extraordinary spring like day. I awoke not feeling well; I think I’m coming down with something. This

morning I drove over to the college and picked up my ‘schedule of classes’ booklet. Juan said that the Spigot should be out tomorrow with teacher listings, but for most of the courses I’m thinking of taking, I know the teachers’ names.I found LaGuardia deserted except for Jacob, drinking tea. He was waiting to go to the library and do his paper for Merritt. I went to the health food store, then to the public library, and finally back home to have lunch and vegetate for a couple of hours.

By 2:30 PM, I was so bored and the 60° sunshine was so inviting, I persuaded Marc to go for a drive with me. We rode along the Belt Parkway, coming up to the Verrazano Bridge, but we didn’t go to Staten Island because it costs too much ($1.50 both ways).

We drove back towards Flatbush Avenue, with windows open, towards Rockaway. It was really nice out there; we passed Ivan, who was with his friends John and Sandy. I honked, and Ivan came over for a minute. “Someone told me to go fly a kite,” he said, so they were going to the beach with one.

Marc and I came home and I tried to figure out some sort of schedule for next term; I register next Monday at 4:45. Later, I went over o the Cutting Crib,

this hairstyling place near Kings Plaza where Ivan, Jill and Elspeth go, and I made an appointment for tomorrow.

I shopped in the mall for awhile and then came home, spending the greater part of the day on the phone. Cousin Donald Crain, the rabbi, called, and we spoke for awhile; his whole family’s getting over the flu. I called Mikey about some matter he’d asked me to check on.

Then I rang up Jill to ask her if I could switch over to the six-school system next fall. She didn’t know but advised me to call Elihu. I couldn’t reach him or Mike, and the other Curriculum Committee members Leon and Elspeth are out of town.

So I called Steve Cooper and we talked about teachers. I said I’d pull cards for him. I also played two rousing games of Clue with Marc, Jonny and Dad. To my surprise, I find myself enjoying life again.

Thursday, January 20, 1972Winter returned today, as it turned cold and brisk. I awoke feeling wonderful: calm and confident.

Mom went into Manhattan to select some fabrics for the hotel; she’s enjoying her role as an interior decorator. And most of Mom and Dad’s spare time is

taken up with the DeVille Country Club. We’re (we’re?) opening for Passover, just two months away.I took a long drive on the Parkway and onto the Cross-Island and over the Throgs Neck Bridge into the Bronx. It was the first time I’d ever driven to the Bronx, and I drove along the still-unfinished Bruckner Boulevard and then back into Queens over the Triboro Bridge. There’s not much to see in the Bronx, but now I have driven to each of the five boroughs.

I had lunch at Cooky’s in Kings Plaza and then went into the Cutting Crib for a hair styling. The place is really freaky – but expensive – and I got a layer cut that looks pretty good. It took about an hour and a half, however, and I returned home with a headache.

After picking up Jonny at P.S. 203, I went over to the college to pick up a Spigot with the teacher listings. I got a copy in Boylan, where I met Steve Sasanoff. I wished him good luck as he heads for the Coast and said, only half in jest, “Don’t look back, it’ll only break your heart.”

I walked into LaGuardia, chuckling at our Mugwump photo in the paper. The only one in the lobby was Shelli, trying to figure out her schedule. She told me that Jerry really appreciated the card a

lot, that he can walk around the house now and is in good spirits.

We talked about various teachers for a while, and then were joined by Suzanne and Stanley, who still isn’t sure if he’s coming back next term.

It was raining, and Suzanne said she had to get home by 4:30 so I offered to drive her. I asked Stanley too, but he declined, and I heard Shelli say she was going to her house, so I had to ask her too.

I took Suzanne home first, then Shelli – still the same – remembered she’d left a book in LaGuardia, so we went back to get it before I finally drove her home.

We discussed nothing but cars and roads the whole ride; it was absurd. But I think I passed the test: Shelli does not appeal to me anymore and she can no longer hurt me. The past is finally gone, and I’m ready for the future.

Friday, January 21, 1972Last night I was preparing to go to bed early when I received a phone call. It was Scott and he was very upset. “I’ve got to talk to someone,” he said. He practically started crying, and that’s so unlike him, so I got dressed and drove over to his house.

He met me outside and we drove to Kings Plaza. He went for a haircut yesterday at Vidal Sassoon’s, the haircut his parents forced him to get. When he returned at 8 PM last night, his parents said that it was still too long and made remarks, and then he called me.

He was in a very depressed mood. He hadn’t eaten, so I took him to Sbarro’s, an Italian restaurant next door to the Pants Set. We talked during dinner about how strict his parents were and things.

He still is on the waiting list at that Kings County shrink program. Now he’s in the stage of realizing he’s a neurotic, as he’s been reading all these psych books. We walked around the mall for awhile and then I took him home, where he was going to get stoned and go to sleep.

I hope I helped a little; I can solve everyone’s problems but my own. I didn’t get to sleep until 2 AM and consequently I got up late this morning. Dad’s car was being fixed and he took mine to work, so I took a bus to school.

Registration has begun, and with it all the hassles and headaches of lines, closed-out courses and other shit. Some people were luck and registered early, like Elihu and Suzanne. Mason was

registering for Steve Cohen and Alan Karpoff for his brother and Leon.

Gary and I went around to various departments looking for courses to take, but they’ll probably all be closed by Monday. Anyway, Gary’s also been depressed. He just doesn’t know what’s coming off, what with the D in Experimental Psych.

The whole thing at school made me sick, so I took a cab home. As the driver pulled away, I saw Shelli standing at the Junction. Sometimes I wonder how she feels about me now.

Yesterday she said I was “a doll” for taking her back to BC and then home. But nothing can happen between us anymore even if Jerry did not exist. Yet I guess it’s only natural to think about what might have been. Still, I prefer real bread to fantasy cake.

Saturday, January 22, 1972A dark, drizzly and depressing day. Perhaps it’s depressing only because I’m not feeling well physically tonight. My head is pounding with my sinuses clogged up and I have an upset stomach and feel generally rotten. It’s possible that I’m coming down with Hong Kong flu, in which case I wouldn’t be alone; everyone’s got it. But perhaps it’s nothing.

I awoke last this morning feeling a bit achy. I had breakfast and then went out in the car, driving along the Belt Parkway. The weather was kind of gloomy and so was I. Besides the physical complaints and the sinus drip, I felt depressed.

Will this coming term be a good one? After months of being on my own, I want to share things with someone again, but there’s no one in sight. I get pretty lonely at times.

Yes, I have friends, but not one special girl who I can call anytime and who’ll tell me she loves me. And I as I need someone to love me, I also need someone to love.

Of course, I miss sex very much. Sometimes I think I’m never going to make love to a girl again.

Anyway, I went to the Metropolitan Museum, parked my car in the lot and walked among the great paintings of Rembrandt, Rubens, Gauguin and the rest, and I bought postcards of paintings by Degas and Lichtenstein.

It was all very serene and relaxing, and afterwards I stood outside Cleopatra’s Needle, wishing I were not alone, that there was a warm, soft body beside me.

I rode through Manhattan, went over the Brooklyn Bridge and had a hamburger and coke in Junior’s. Then I drove down Fulton Street by the Slack Bar, which was boarded up and closed.

Coming home, I really felt lousy and went I got into the house, I was nauseated and had a very bad case of diarrhea. The stomach upset is probably a result of the mucus dripping down from the sinuses, but it’s still a nuisance.

Still, it really wasn’t a bad day. Though I’ve been alone and ill, I managed to have some fun. Tonight I feel restless, nervous. I feel as though I’m in limbo between two stages of my life. How long will this state of limbo last?

Sunday, January 23, 1972It turned bright, sunny and mild today. I spent last night watching TV: To Be Young, Gifted and Black, a very good portrait of the late playwright Lorraine Hansberry. I wish I could write again; possibly I’ll register for Creative Writing this term.

I awoke late this morning feeling drugged but physically okay. I spent a leisurely morning, having a big breakfast. Then I went down to the basement, read the Sunday papers and watched the TV interview shows. Chancellor Kibbee was on, seemingly an

idiot; he was not very clear about his positions on issues. George Wallace was interviewed, and he toned down his racist image and is given a good chance of winning the Florida primary. But with each passing day, Sen. Muskie picks up more and more endorsements and gains in the polls, and people are saying he’s got the Democratic nomination wrapped up.

I went upstairs and was amused to find Marvin Cohen visiting Dad and wearing bush jeans and argyle socks. Jonny and I took a ride out to Rockaway. Sometimes I feel as though I’m missing some of the fun of watching him grow up. It’s nice once in a while to do things with my little brother.

We visited Grandpa Herb and Grandma Ethel, who looked fine – but she may need more surgery on her rectum. Jonny and I left after an hour and rode home with the windows open. This has been the mildest winter I can remember.

I spent a quiet afternoon and evening at home while the rest of the family is visiting in Cedarhurst; Sammy’s going back to Dartmouth tomorrow.

I called Alice, who said her job at the magazine has so far consisted of bimmie work, like totaling and reading entries in a contest of how many words can be

made out of “rhinoceros.”

But Alice hopes she’ll be given a chance later to do some writing, so she’ll stay on for now. She told me Renee is getting married Thursday at City Hall to this “nebbish” grad student.

Alice thinks Renee is marrying him out of loneliness (Renee put it: “I need a cheerleader”) and Alice tried to dissuade her, to no avail. The whole thing sounds like a mistake to me, but Renee must do what she wants to, and all I can do is offer my congratulations.

Monday, January 24, 1972A hectic day, but what can you expect of registration? Gary called me early this morning, saying that things were already closing out and that he pulled a cad for me in this Sociology course we’ll be taking.

I hurried over to school, paid my $53 consolidated fee, and went into LaGuardia, where I found Gary, Shelli and Mikey. Shelli said that I could pick up my Creative Writing card in Boylan right away, and so I did.

Then Mikey and I went over to Whitehead to look at which courses had closed already. He was pretty upset and kept saying “Shit!” all day. Back in LaGuardia, Elspeth was mad at everyone

(as usual) because nobody would pull a card for her.

Amy said that she finished registering on Friday, ha ha, so I went over and started kiddingly hitting her, and she kept playfully teasing me. I realized something at that instant – or felt it, I guess: that I was greatly attracted physically to Amy.

We got to talking about ballet and I asked her to come with me to the Joffrey in March and she accepted. Shelli overheard this and asked me, “Since when did you get culture?”

I heard Shelli tell Avis that Jerry went to Albany this morning. I only wish Shelli would go away too, out of my life. Alex came around with Sherie; he’s going back to law school in Philly soon, but it’s always nice to see him. I said I’d try to get him a job at the hotel this summer.

Stanley came in and revealed that he’s not coming back this term. I don’t know what he will do, though.

I came home to relax. Gary came over and we watched soap operas.

At 4:45 I went into that registration room in Roosevelt. I got closed out of several things, but I did get others and I haven’t closed out yet; I’ll do that on

Wednesday. As I walked out of Roosevelt with Dr. Stone, we discussed how ill the whole process makes everyone. I thought just I had diarrhea over it, but Avis and Gary said they did, too.

Scott said things are “okay” at home, but he didn’t sound too enthusiastic. The worst of registration is behind me now – and I can’t wait for the new term to start.

Tuesday, January 25, 1972I had a restless night, dreaming again and again of registration, and so I was tired when I got up this morning. Mom went into Manhattan to pick out carpeting for the hotel. Having nothing better to do, I went to school, but I found LaGuardia lobby basically deserted.

Harry was there, telling me of a Mugwump meeting tomorrow night in SUBO. Scott was in and out, going back and forth to Registration at Roosevelt; he’s getting very neurotic.Elspeth came in and she looked like she was still sulking because no one would pull cards for her. She’s always looking for people to do things for her, and I’m getting tired of it.

I talked for awhile with Effie and Janice and with Lloyd, the Radical Zionist Mugwump. (Leon says we should now call ourselves the Mugvumps.) Then

Scott and I got into my car and picked up Avis at her building. She announced that she got her driver’s license!

Gary had a wisdom tooth pulled this morning, so Scott suggested we visit him. We found him looking pale; he was bleeding and lot and was in pain, but we stayed for awhile and Scott gave Gary some grass to make him feel better. They also exchanged course cards, as Scott is going to Virginia with Timmy and Michael tomorrow so he had to close out today.

After dropping Scott and Avis off, I came home to have lunch and waste the afternoon. I had a 4:45 PM appointment with Dr. Wouk, who had a bad cold.

He thinks the hotel thing may give me something to do – God knows it’s all I hear at home these days. Dr. Wouk lives upstate three days a week not far from the hotel and he said he’ll visit.

He said that I really shouldn’t feel guilty for Jerry’s accident and that if he and Shelli get married, he’d encourage me to give a gift.

Why? Because Jerry did me a favor, enabling me to end a neurotic relationship I couldn’t have broken off myself. And Dr. Wouk’s right about that.

He also said, echoing Steve Cohen a month ago, that I like to put on the front of being so neurotic when I am actually pretty “together” in a lot of ways. Dr. Wouk said I’ve changed enormously in the two and a half years of therapy with him. Wednesday, January 26, 1972Tonight I feel like a burnt-out case. It’s been a difficult day and I’ve used a lot of energy trying to cope with life. Oh, why can’t things run smoothly all the time? But I guess that wouldn’t be what life is. What the hell is life? Will somebody please tell me?

When I arrive in LaGuardia, I saw Scott, Avis, Shelli – and Jerry. I learned he flew in from Albany (using Larry Simon’s credit card); we said hello but he did not say a word about the get-well card and things were pretty strained.

I went to Roosevelt with Timmy, Scott and Gary and we all closed out – and then Timmy and Scott said goodbye as they left for Virginia. Back in LaGuardia, I asked Avis about Stacy and she said she hadn’t talked to her in a long time and Avis was a bit upset about Stacy’s “male harem” (or “groupies,” as Scott calls them).

I was hurt when Jerry, Shelli and Avis went for pizza without asking me along.

Mason – dear Mason – sensed this and instead of going along with them (they invited him), he said he’d go with me and Gary to the deli even though I sensed Mason really would have preferred pizza.

Back in LaGuardia after lunch, I sat around with Gary and Mike, Stanley and Bill and Dean Jones, and we had a raucous, raunchy conversation. Stanley does not know what he’s going to do and he said he knows people only like him because he’s witty and never talks about his problems, that he has no identity outside of LaGuardia lobby.

Mike and Gary joked about Sari (remember her?) and other stuff and Mike said he couldn’t understand what I ever saw in Shelli except perhaps that I got used to her. And I realized what bothered me today was not that Jerry’s going with Shelli, it was that he refused my friendship.

At home, Grandpa Herb and Grandma Ethel came over with upsetting news: Grandma goes into the hospital on Sunday and will have rectal surgery on Tuesday. I’m so very worried, but it’s to correct her last operation and hopefully will get rid of the terrible pain she has. I will pray for her; I love her so much.

Tonight we had a Mugwump meeting in

SUBO: me, Mikey, Elspeth, Elihu, Steve, Arnie, Karen and a few others. Maybe we have a chance this election, but I don’t care anymore. My head is pounding; it’s been that kind of day.

Thursday, January 27, 1972I feel fine tonight after a pleasant, slow-moving day. I sort of promised myself that after yesterday, I would take kind of a vacation from my problems today – and I did just that and I’m feeling 100% better.

I awoke late, long after Mom, Dad and Jonny had gone to South Fallsburg to see the hotel. I lolled in bed for an hour, then had a large, leisurely breakfast before I got into the Pontiac and drove off.

It was quite cold today but the brisk weather made me feel vibrant and alive. I drove over the Brooklyn Bridge; I never stop admiring the skyline of lower Manhattan, dominated by the giant phallic towers of the World Trade Center.

I drove along the FDR Drive and then around midtown Manhattan, but the city weekday traffic made me nervous, so I got on the West Side Highway and took the tunnel back into Brooklyn.

I bought a couple of slices of pizza for

lunch, then went to the college. Ruth and Marty were there; Marty’s looking hard for a job, with their wedding in a couple of months.

I went to the library and started looking at law and grad school catalogs; I think I’m going to take the law boards in April. I talked for a while with Ray and Mendy, who’s now president of the SUBO Board, then went home to exercise, watch TV and drink some papaya-leaf tea.

I bought some herbs and health foods. Everyone has noticed how much weight I’ve lost and I’m kind of proud of myself. Dr. Wouk said that what really bothers me is that I have a lot of love to give, but since I broke up with Shelli, I have no love-object. Perhaps I’ve been concentrating my love on myself lately.I had dinner at the Floridian and then went out to Rockaway with Grandma Sylvia and Grandpa Nat. Mom, Dad and Jonny said the hotel is still run-down, but I’m really getting into the excitement of it.

Yesterday I saw a poster for the hotel in the College Deli, and I’m beginning to think it’s really true. Lennie has so many ideas for the hotel; he and Dad say even if it doesn’t make them any money, “at least we’ll all have a lot of fun.”

Friday, January 28, 1972

It’s a cold, icy, lovely midwinter night. I’m listening to the radio, hoping to hear Melanie sing this little risqué song in her cute raspy voice. I would like to go to bed with Melanie. Or any girl. Or at least have somebody around to talk to, somebody quiet and soft and gentle, a human being with lips and arms and breasts.

It was never really like that with Shelli; I pretty much idealized her. But something is better than nothing. Nothing – not any thing.

Remember Glenda Jackson’s line in Sunday, Bloody Sunday?: “There are times when nothing has to be better than anything.” She was right. I wouldn’t want to go back to a relationship like the one I had with Shelli Sherman, but now I do want to try for a good relationship with a new girl. And so, when the term starts, I’m going to start dating. I never really did date girls, and I think it’s about time I went through that bit. There are many girls at school to whom I’m attracted, but I can’t picture any of them as my girlfriend.

It snowed during the night and through the early part of the day, making for slippery roads and a lot of shoveling and an unholy mess as the whole thing turned into grey slush.

Marc went to Maryland with Joey, who couldn’t afford the plane fare. So they had to schlep down by bus. I spent the morning wandering around Kings Plaza; I browsed a lot but I didn’t buy anything except the Times.

After lunch, I went over to Georgetowne to see Harold and Maude, a weird movie about the romance of 80-year-old Ruth Gordon and 20-year-old Bud Cort. It was okay, but a bit overdone. I did agree with the overall philosophy of the film: live life to the fullest, even if you get hurt, “so at least you’ll have something to talk about in the locker room.”

I gabbed for an hour tonight with Gary, with whom I’ve felt closer in the past month than anyone else. I’m not looking forward to the next couple of days: a dreary weekend, with Grandma Ethel going into the hospital. Still, I suppose, with a little luck, things will turn out all right. I hope so, anyway.

Saturday, January 29, 1972A chilly, brisk day. I got up early. During the night I had a dream about Stacy. Perhaps I’m not over her yet. I went into Jonny’s room and played with him for a while, then got dressed and ate.

The streets were a bit clearer today, so I decided to go for a drive. I drove along the Belt into Manhattan and along the

West Side Highway, which must be the world’s worst road.

But I’m getting used to driving in Manhattan, and it’s good that I’m learning my way around. I parked on Central Park West and 80th Street and went into the Museum of Natural History.

At the door of the museum, I was surprised to meet Veronica Reilly, leading a bunch of kids. Veronica explained that it was her job, taking these kids places, and they were just leaving. I said I’d see her in school; she’s a nice girl but not really my type.

In the museum, I looked around at dinosaur bones, Indian relics and other things. The thing that impressed me most was the chart showing how man figured in the time of the world. On this long spiral, man was represented as a little red line about one-sixteenth of an inch from the end. Wow. I guess we’re not as important as we think we are.

I drove through Central Park, which looked lovely in the snow, and went back to Brooklyn to have lunch at the Brooklyn Museum. I walked around there for awhile, then drove down Flatbush Avenue, stopping to visit Mark and Consuelo, but they weren’t home.

The rest of the afternoon I spent doing chores: washing the car, shopping for groceries, stuff like that. I called Grandma Ethel and she sounded fine – for a 61-year-old woman who’s going into the hospital for surgery anyway.

I’m so very worried about her. Yet all my four grandparents are getting old, and I have to accept the fact that as much as I love them, they won’t be with me forever. But I never took them for granted and I will have so many great memories.

Tonight Mom and Dad went out, and Jonny’s gone to a movie, so I’m at home alone. I’m going to watch Renoir’s Grand Illusion, which Leon says is his favorite film.

Sunday, January 30, 1972A cold, sunny day. Last night I watched Grand Illusion, and it was truly superb. But it didn’t answer the question of why men go to war and if they will ever learn from the experience.

I awoke this morning feeling absolutely terrible. My stomach ached, my head hurt, and I felt generally nervous and weak. It was a pretty awful morning: I read the Sunday papers, watched the news shows, kvetched a lot.

It’s all psychosomatic, I’m sure; I dread

facing this week, as there are so many things that will create tension. Grandma Ethel is having an operation, first of all. She entered Caledonia Hospital this morning and will have tests done tomorrow and the surgery on Tuesday.

God, I’m so scared she’s going to die. I was so upset that I just couldn’t’ bring myself to go with Mom and Dad to visit her in the hospital. And I am kind of angry with Marc for going to Maryland and with Marty and Arlyne, who are on a skiing trip with the kids.

Another thing that’s got me upset is the start of the spring term. The first few classes always make me nervous, and I know tomorrow will be very hectic. While I like school, I am nervous about doing well this term after last semester’s fiasco.

And then there’s the SG election, with all the bother of getting petitions and writing platform statements. And on Sunday, there’s Kjell’s wedding; these affairs make me uncomfortable.

But now that I’ve listed all my worries, they don’t seem so terrible. I’ve become stronger and I can handle things better now, so maybe I’ll be able to take this week in my stride.

I just wish I had someone to talk to.

Gary’s been working all weekend for the Cerebral Palsy telethon, and I don’t really feel like telling my problems to Scott or Avis or Jill or Alice. I have feeling that I’m going to need someone to lean on in the next week, though.

Tonight I feel apprehensive about the future. Is there a future? I suppose there is, but sometimes I get so discouraged. I’m alone in the house again tonight, and I’m lonely. Life isn’t always an easy business, is it? Or is it just that I make it difficult?

Monday, January 31, 1972The new term seems to have begun successfully and I weathered the hectic day. But uncertainty and worry over Grandma Ethel’s surgery tomorrow overshadowed the day at school.

I arrived in LaGuardia at 9:30 and found Leon, Avis, Elihu and Carl, who’s back from Atlanta, along with some others. It’s just like it always was.

My first class was Classics 1 with Ms. Fromchuck, who reminds me of Laurie, but I don’t know if I’m going to enjoy the course. Then I had Soc 50.1 with Willie Beer, a friend of Ray’s. He’s a radical and the course is about the individual and society. Gary, Russ, Craig and Felicia are in the class, so it should be a lot of fun.

Back in LaGuardia, I saw Leslie and Stacy. It turns out Stacy didn’t hang up on me because she was mad at me. It was a bad connection and she didn’t hear anything I said, so she hung up, not knowing who it was.

Timmy told us that he got arrested in Virginia Beach for speeding and had to pay $30. Steve Cohen was back from Florida, tanned and serene. Stanley was in LaGuardia too, even though he’s not registered this term and has no idea what he’s going to do. Gary and I had lunch in the deli, then went with Harry to give our Mugwump leaflet to the printers. Back in LaGuardia, we got our petitions from Steve Cooper, who’s elections commissioner, and then we tried to get signatures.

I kissed and hugged Renee when I saw her – or should I say Mrs. Bernard Birnbaum? She said her honeymoon was spent in the lab working with rats.

I went with Mason and Fred to the registrar, where we looked at open sections; I may change my program. My Creative Writing teacher, Mr. Galin, seemed hostile and aggressive but he also seems genuinely concerned, and I like him. We only have to hand in four things anyway.

A home, Marc came home from Maryland tonight. I spoke to Grandma Ethel; she feels as though she’s been in the hospital forever. I’m just praying that everything goes right with the operation tomorrow. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to Grandma.

Let everything be okay tomorrow. At least I know the surgeon, Dr. Littman, whom I saw in high school. He’s a good man.

Tuesday, February 1, 1972Today’s pace was pretty hectic. Grandpa Herb was here this morning before he went to the hospital, where he stayed all day. I went to school and first changed my program, dropping Classics and putting in this English satire class that Scott is taking.

In LaGuardia, Scott and Avis told me that they were both mad at Stacy. Scott and she aren’t speaking. Which is silly, because even Shelli and I spoke friendlily today, about our classes.

Stacy went to Florida over intersession with Leroy and Melvin, Scott said. Leroy called him in Virginia, saying he couldn’t stand another day with Stacy.

I went to my 10:50 class, English 42, The Bible as Literature; Linda Schrager is

in the class. Mrs. Starling, the teacher, is a fiftyish black woman, exuberant, sweet and just a very nice person. I’m dying to really get into the Bible.

Linda told me that Carole got a ring from Hymie and Carole’s been telling and showing the world her 1.7 carats.

Gary and I had a quick lunch in the Pub, then we returned to campus. Gary said Kjell’s starting to get pre-wedding diarrhea. I called home, and Marc said that Grandma Ethel was in the recovery room and things seemed okay.

Then there was the usual LaGuardia scene of gossiping and commenting on the world. I saw Consuelo, who’s been working at the BC day care center; she said Mark is fine.

My History 1.1 teacher, Gary Osteraas, never showed up, but he left a course outline and assignment sheet. I took Renee to the Campus Corner, where we discussed her marriage. She seems happier than I’ve ever seen her, so I guess it’s working out.

I handed in my petitions to Steve and drove home, where I kept calling people – Arlyne, Grandpa Nat – to see if they had information on Grandma Ethel, but no one was home.

However, when Mom and Dad came home from the hospital at 5 PM, they said that Grandma seems all right, that when she was awake, she spoke lucidly, so things seem okay.

But I’m worried about the spinal they gave her; I hope it doesn’t cause any side effects. It’s nice, though, how everyone pulls together in times of trouble. Grandma Sylvia, Aunt Claire, Irene Krasner, Great-Grandma Bessie and the rest of the family were concerned and helpful.Wednesday, February 2, 1972When I arose this Groundhog Day, a wet snow was falling, and it continued to fall throughout the day. Walking to the post office on Nostrand Avenue this morning to mail Ivan his birthday present (a 1945 Batman comic), I fell on the ice and got all bruised.

I limped into LaGuardia and talked with Avis and Elspeth. Carole called me over, saying, “You haven’t congratulated me yet.” I kissed her as she showed me her (huge) ring. I guess Carole is now at the pinnacle of JAP success.

I really think I’m going to enjoy English 59, The Academic Satire course with Mr. Kitch, an earnest, youngish teacher. In Soc, Beer lectured on alienation; he’s pretty good and said that if we want, we can use our first test mark as our course

grade and then not show up.

Gary and I went back to LaGuardia, where we took another Mugwump photo. Mikey prevailed upon Stacy, Leroy and Carl to run, and even Gary is running. We all handed in our petitions and platform statements. Perhaps I’ll make history by being the first person to lose three SG elections in a row.

I went to the Pub for lunch with Stacy and Leslie, and as the service was, as usual, terrible, I got a chance to see the Feldman sisters together. They’re very alike: Leslie is Stacy, but just a little less so, and I think she’s a bit prettier. They’re so affection and kept kissing each other like Lillian and Dorothy Gish in Orphans in the Storm.

Carl joined us later and talked of his trip with Leon. The other day Mike said that I shouldn’t trust Carl, but I think Mike’s way off-base in his opinion that Carl will do anything he can to get ahead.

Back in LaGuardia, I talked with Leon and Stanley, and then came home. Mom and Marc had been at the hospital and they said Grandma Ethel looked okay and was even walking around.

So tonight I went myself to visit her at Caledonia Hospital, on Parkside Avenue. Grandpa Herb was also there. Grandma

Ethel looked well, although she complained that she was so nauseated she couldn’t eat.

I was relieved to see her, though, but as hospitals unnerve me, I didn’t stay very long.

Thursday, February 3, 1972A cold, steady rain fell all day. I awoke early and went off to school. I had parked the car and was walking toward the campus when I spotted Leslie coming off the bus. I like her very much, but I don’t think it would ever go anyplace, any farther than my relationship with Stacy would.

In English, Mrs. Starling went over the first three chapters of Genesis - the creation story – and I learned a lot about the Bible I had never known. The course looks interesting, because of both the teacher and the material.

I saw Laura today. She said she’s been ill, but she thinks it’s psychological because she’s fine on weekends when she doesn’t have to look for a job.

I went for lunch in the delicatessen with Teresa and Stanley. Teresa is in group therapy and they’re telling her to “assert” herself. And Stanley still

doesn’t know what he’s doing to do. Everyone’s searching.

Walking to class, Amy told me she broke up with her boyfriend of three months. He’s now dating her friend and she said she’s lonely and hurt. I sort of know how that is.

History is very good. Mr. Osteraas recognized and remembered me and the course looks like a lot of fun. I returned to LaGuardia and read The Alignment’s first leaflet, attacking us for postponing the election.

Our leaflets, Harry reported, couldn’t be done by Flatbush Press and Mike arranged to have them done tonight at Juan’s printers. This is my fourth student government election and my third as a candidate. There is less interest each time.

I stayed awhile in LaGuardia, talking with Edie, Mikey and even Shelli, although I can’t stand her anymore. And it’s not because of what happened; I realize that I plain don’t like her, that she’s so babyish and bitchy.

She asked Edie to help her with crocheting, but I don’t think Shelli wanted to learn that, I think she’s just interested in starting some trouble with a girl I like. But perhaps I’m wrong.

Grandma Ethel has been suffering chest and neck pains, probably from the spinal; I hope everything will be all right. Tonight I feel quite tired and it’s early, so I guess I’m not feeling too well.

Friday, February 4, 1972So much has happened today and it’s only 7 PM, but I feel worn out. In English this morning, Mr. Kitch began talking about parody. After calls, Scott asked me if I wanted to go with him and Avis to Radio City tonight; I told him no, that I had a date (I don’t, of course).

In Soc, Beer talked again about alienation and discovering how we can become free or oppression. He’s tried grass and psychotherapy, but does anything really work? I said it’s scary to face the unknown – and believe me, it is.

I voted for myself and the other Mugwumps, but didn’t little campaigning, as Harry didn’t bring the leaflets until late afternoon. We sort of had a strategy session at noon, and Mikey gave one of his “go get ‘em” speeches. Kingsman endorsed The Alignment, naturally, and here I go with my third SG election loss.

Scott was with Avis but took me aside and told me, somewhat apologetically,

that they were doubling with Shelli and Jerry tonight. But he did ask me first and he gave me a brotherly hug as he left.

He and Avis are great; still, I was surprised at how upset I was, for you’d think I’d be over it by now. But the other day Renee said that Howie has never gotten over Alice, so maybe I will never get over it, either.

In History, as Gary Osteraas lectured on ancient Africa, I kept noticing this girl next to me. Her name’s Terry Katz and I like her a lot (physically anyway).

Knowing Jerry was in LaGuardia, I went to Boylan cafeteria and had tea with Willie Lefcourt. We talked over old times; he hasn’t changed a whit since junior high.

I took Leslie to vote, then I waited around for Amy and drove her to her ballet lesson. She and her ex-boyfriend Eli and his new girl, her friend, all belong to this co-ed house plan.

Amy told me that Eli hadn’t dated any other girls before her, but now he wants to date others. He said Amy’s possessive and he cried and she cried and she described the sick feeling she gets when she sees them together. She’s lost five pounds since the breakup.

I understood every word she said. Tonight Amy’s house plan is having an open house and she’ll have to face it alone, if she goes. Just like me at Steve’s party last October.Grandma Ethel was in a lot of pain today. Grandpa Herb had diner here with us. Gary came over for a while; he has the Guard tomorrow. I just feel so nervous tonight. I haven’t had a bad anxiety attack like this in a long time.

Saturday, February 5, 1972Last night I decided to go to the open house at Kharma House. As I drove up there, I spotted Mikey and his Rockaway friend Eric, who were also going.

I had never really been to one of these things before: a rock band (bad) and Jewish girls and Jewish boys and black lights and stuff. Amy seemed pretty steady, but she did say she got that sick feeling when she saw her old boyfriend with his new girlfriend.

I met Bobby Shapiro and Larry Levene (who says law school is a drag) and Barry Silverman and Craig Kutner, Paul Lippman and even Leslie. I spent a good deal of the evening talking to these two cute entering freshmen, Lisa and Pamela, from Mill Basin. I really liked them, but as I’m not used to picking up girls, I got neither their last names nor

their phone numbers.

But I had a good time anyway. I was all worked up over this last hectic week, didn’t get much sleep and felt hung over this morning. I drove to Manhattan after breakfast, still feeling a bit fuzzy.

I’ve had this idea for writing a play – about the people at school and Shelli and all, in the style of Miller’s After the Fall.

I parked near Union Square and went to Kiehl’s drugstore, which specializes in herbs; I read about it in Cue. After buying some eyebright, St. John’s wort and plantain, I drove into Greenwich Village and finally found The Annotated Alice, which I need for Kitch’s course.

Back home again, I washed the car and did some shopping. Dad and Lennie may sell the hotel, as the guy who has 50%, the old owner, is dissatisfied and wants to buy them out. Although it would give them a 50% profit, it would be a disappointment, but the man may merely be bluffing.

Grandma Ethel is feeling a little better and will be coming home from the hospital tomorrow; I’m so glad. Marc and Jonny both have colds, but I’m feeling fine after an herbal bath, 40 sit-ups, 20 pushups and a headstand.

Gary called after a rough day at the Armory and we made traveling arrangements for Kjell and Sharon’s wedding tomorrow.

I need time to think, but maybe I don’t. There are so many girls I’m attracted to. But I haven’t asked a single one out yet. I feel that that will be coming soon – coming naturally – and perhaps one day I’ll follow Kjell and Sharon and get married myself.

Sunday, February 6, 1972Today was a beautiful day, because I witnessed something beautiful. I woke up feeling refreshed after a restful sleep, and after breakfast, I got all dressed up in my green suit with the works: tie, cufflinks, dress shoes.

Gary came over at 11:45 AM and we drove in my car to the catering hall, Regency House, in Jamaica. When we arrived we saw Kjell and Sharon taking photographs. They looked so beautiful together, so right together.

I met (or re-met, I guess) Eileen Rubenfeld, who seems nice: pleasant, plain but pretty. We first went into a room for the smorgasbord. Gary had an upset stomach so he didn’t eat much, but I stuffed my face.

We talked with the kids there: Kjell’s friends Artie and his wife, Lou and his fiancée, Eileen, Tommy and his girlfriend, all of whom sat at our table later.

The ceremony began at 2:00 and I sat with Mark. First Eileen and Artie came down to the aisle, then the other attendants, the best man (Sharon’s brother), the rabbi and the cantor, Kjell with Mr. and Mrs. Guttormsen, and finally Sharon stepped out from behind the curtain and her parents walked her halfway down the aisle – then Kjell came and escorted her under the canopy.

As a woman sang “Sunrise, Sunset” (“swiftly flow the years”), I got these chills and almost began crying. Sharon was so damn beautiful, dressed in white, her light red hair covered by a veil. And Kjell looked so handsome in his tuxedo. It’s nice to see love.

As Kjell crushed the wine glass, the wedding music played – and then we went down for dinner. It was a great meal and I ate a lot and danced the hora and the alley cat and the waltz and talked a lot.

When us guys went out to decorate Stan’s car with paper hearts and a “Just Married” sign, we found it was snowing heavily. Back in the hall, we enjoyed the

remaining half-hour of the affair, then I gave Kjell their gift, kissed Sharon, Mrs. Guttormsen and Mrs. Goldman, and said goodbye.

Gary drove the Pontiac home through the heavy snow; he got out at Eileen’s house and he later came around the block to pick up his car in front of our house.

Later I spoke to Alice, who of course went to P.S. 203 with Kjell and me, and she said all our friends are getting married but not her: “I‘m going to live in sin for a few years.” Alice has decided to quit her job at the magazine and go back to Vanderveer again.

When I saw Sharon and Kjell at the altar today, I realized I want to married one day.

Monday, February 7, 1972Late last night I got a call, but no one said anything. I heard breathing and said if the other person didn’t say anything, I’d hang up – but the person hung up first. It’s probably a nut, but I got the feeling it was someone I knew.

The snow, which looked pretty last night, was just a mess this morning. Mom drove me to school. In LaGuardia, I shared these awful lettuce cigarettes I

bought at the health food store with Avis and Mike, but they smell terrible and Sheryl made me throw them away because they were stinking up the lobby.

Mike stunned me by saying that Solly had died and they buried him on Friday. His last intestinal operation proved one too many. Although I never had any love for Sol, I felt terrible and wanted to punch Elihu after he laughed hatefully, saying, “He was a rotten person anyway.” He was still just a kid.

In English 59, we listened to Nichols and May, and then David Frye. After class, Scott said he had his first shrink appointment today. Soc was cancelled, so I did some campaigning with Mikey, handing out leaflets, perennial candidate that I am.

I went with Leon and Mason to this jazz concert in SUBO; on the way, Gary joined us and I was uncomfortable, as he and Leon hate each other; they’re such opposites.

But peace prevailed, and the jazz was good, and I met Pamela, the girl from Friday night. She said she signed up for Kingsman as I suggested and we exchanged last names (hers is Charlton and she lives in the Basin).

She has soft black hair and the cutest

smile I’ve ever seen. Would it be ridiculous to even think that I’m falling in love with her? Gary said it would when he had lunch afterward at Four Kings.

Back in LaGuardia, I talked for a bit with Alan Karpoff’s girlfriend Cathy, who’s freaky in the tradition of Laurie and Jane and Sheryl. I went to creative writing with Josef Czutrin, but class was cancelled so I leafleted with Harry and Arnie.

Then, as I was leaving campus, Carole caught up with me and bent my ear about her wedding plans and how jealous Hymie is of any boy that talks to her.

Grandma Ethel’s home from the hospital, but she’s still in pain. Tonight Gary called, wanting to know what I thought of Eileen. I said she seemed direct, a non-games sort of girl. He said, “It’s three months and I don’t know where the relationship is heading.”

Tuesday, February 8, 1972A long day. It turned icy cold. I was nearly frozen from the walk from my car to LaGuardia. Leslie and Leroy were in a big discussion with this disciple of this 14-year-old maharishi, whom the girl claimed was God. Scott said that the session with his

shrink went fairly well; he’s going twice a week, and I hope it helps him.

In Bible, Mrs. Starling was great as we went over the archetypal stories in Genesis: the first murder, the flood and the towers of Babel. She’s so effervescent, and I wasn’t bored for a minute.

After class, I looked around for someone to eat with, and finally I found Teresa available. Over lunch, she told me she’s been seeing this married guy but it’s a hassle and now she’d like to give his younger brother a “Summer of ‘72” experience. That’s Teresa for you.

In LaGuardia, I found Susan and asked her some questions about the story she’s writing on the new English curriculum. I could now be a major if I could somehow get by the foreign language requirement.

We brought out our “Harold Schwartz: Wanted for Treason” leaflet and Harold protested, calling it libel. But Steve naturally refused to go along with his fellow elections commissioner, Avi Sternlieb, in confiscating it.

I sat through a boring History lecture by Osteraas. After class, I asked Teri out. She said no, that she has a boyfriend. I felt rejected and went to LaGuardia,

seeing Steve, Mikey and Amy going to the coffee shop.

I joined them and heard Amy say that she likes Eric after Mikey introduced them on Friday night. Eric came over to her house on Saturday night, but I think he’s too experienced for someone as admittedly innocent as Amy.

And after Amy went to class, Mikey told me that on Friday night, he wanted to go to bed with Amy. Mikey has only had about three dates and he’ll never get the courage to ask her out. What he needs is to get away from his mother – but the only son of a widow, that’s rough.

Downtown later, Dr. Wouk said not to feel rejected by Teri’s turndown and he encouraged me to ask other girls out. In our session we thrashed through the events of the past two weeks and it was good to get things off my chest. He’s going to Europe next week, so I’ll see him in two weeks.

Gary called to say he spent a nice day observing nursery school kids in Rockaway for his Child Psych course.

Wednesday, February 9, 1972It’s only 7:30 PM, but I’m tired and about to call it a day. I woke up early this morning, feeling bright and

cheerful. I drove to school and arrive in LaGuardia at 9:30 to find the usual people there: Avis, suffering with her tonsillitis; Elihu, scowling as usual.

I’m getting kind of tired of seeing the same old faces day after day; I’d like to meet someone new and exciting, preferably a female. What I really want is to reestablish a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship with someone.

Mr. Kitch did not show up today, so I returned – where else? – to LaGuardia. Stacy and Melvin were going to get some breakfast and I joined them, with Scott coming along too, since he and Stacy are finally speaking again.

Scott talked about his shrink, whom he doesn’t like; he really would like to go into primal therapy, but I think that’s a lot of crap, along with this “divine light” 14-year-old guru stuff and Ontology and just about everything else.

Beer didn’t appear for class either, so I futzed around for an hour.

Dick Cioffi came in, looking for some information on the new building construction and the rumored defects for his new job for Liberal Party Councilman Ken Haber. So I said I’d help him and find out what I could.

Mikey and I did some last-day campaigning and then a bunch of us went out to lunch at Roma II: Leon, Mason, Gary, Mikey, Timmy, Carl, Steve Cooper and Steve Cohen. We had a real good time.

I told Leon about my diary and my writings; there’s something about him that makes me want to open up to him, like there’s a subtle kinship between us. Anyhow, the Italian food really threw me for a loop; I became so nauseated during Creative Writing that I had to leave in the middle of class.

Steve Cohen was making a movie today and plans to show it at a party, a la Leon. Steve seems more together lately now that he’s student-teaching at Tech.

I went home and rested this afternoon. Tonight I got a call from Avis, who sounded very depressed. We talked for an hour, but I asked her not to discuss “the decision” she must make about Scott.

She asked me if I’d take her to see The Trojan Women Saturday night, and stupidly I agreed. What am I letting myself in for?

Thursday, February 10, 1972A cool, bright day. When I arrived on campus this morning, I went straight to

the Kingsman office and found Maddy and Melvin looking over the election results. We were pretty well schmeered; we elected six on our slate, all people I don’t know who were supported by Jewish Student Union, all of whose other candidates won, too.

I lost, along with Elspeth, Stacy, Carl, Gary, Sandy, Harry, Fern and Arnie and his sister. Pretty discouraging; it looks as though you have to wear a yarmulke to win an SG election at BC.

Mikey said nothing this morning, but he was in a bad mood and growled at everyone. I escaped to Bible, where Mrs. Starling went over some more of Genesis; I really love that class.

I took a walk with Steve Cohen to move his car; he had a fight with Pauline, then made up with her. They’re always doing that, but it’s four months and Steve thinks it’s “something solid.” We discussed what we could do to get Mikey and Amy together but decided it’s better not to interfere.

Back in LaGuardia, we all hashed over the election results and decided it was a dangerous precedent for one group (JSU) to be so powerful, winning the vote with their endorsed candidates in both parties.

Mikey and Mike decided that we’ll have to pick a presidential candidate soon, maybe next week, and begin campaigning right away.

Stacy came in, and while Mike was comforting her on her defeat, I asked her to go with me to the Kris Kristofferson concert on Sunday and she said yes.

Stacy went down to Kingsman, and Edie entered the lobby with a jar of homemade jelly she’d promised me. I kissed her and asked her to go to the movies with me tomorrow. Edie said that she had her sorority rush, but maybe we can go afterwards.

I shot the breeze awhile with Aaron and Juan, then drove home, dropping off Susan at her house as she and I discussed romantic poetry.

Tonight was Jonny’s eleventh birthday party, just the family and Gary, who dropped by. Jonny got $10 each from Marc and me, and lot of presents; he’s a cute kid and a great brother.

Tonight I visited Grandma Ethel, who’s looking better. The Slack Bar was finally sold, and Grandpa Herb is now unemployed. Afterwards, I went across the street to see Grandpa Nat and Grandma Sylvia, spending an hour

talking to them in the kitchen.

Friday, February 11, 1972An indescribably incredible day. When I walked into LaGuardia this morning, Avis told me that she had called Scott last night; he didn’t call back and she was upset and told me to have him call her.

In class before Mr. Kitch came in, Scott called me over and said that for all these years he’s been doing things for others, not for himself, and he wanted to start being selfish. Scott said he was giving up his obligations, including calling Avis every night.

I sympathized with him, as he’s going through a personal identity crisis, but Avis is going to be very hurt. As Scott and I went down the steps in Boylan after class, I witnessed an unbelievable, incredible sight: Scott and Avis passed within a few inches of each other, he going down the stairs with me, she going up, but their eyes never met and they both walked on.

It was so queer; it wasn’t as if either was ignoring each other, I could tell. They just didn’t see the other person. I felt it symbolized their relationship.

Beer bullshitted on anomie in Soc, and the Gary and I went to LaGuardia. Fern

was there for her last day at BC, as she got accepted in September to Downstate for nursing. Fern is really remarkable; I don’t know how she stands Harry’s fooling around. She knows he’s always screwing other girls, but it’s first starting to bother her now. Fern is direct and sensual and should go out with other boys, but Harry’s terribly jealous.

Mike tried to tell Fern that Harry’s no good, but she says there more to Harry than any of us in LaGuardia see. Last Wednesday, she wanted to break up with him and he begged her to forgive him till 2 AM.

We went to lunch: me, Gary, Fern, Amy and Mark Friedberg. I asked Friedberg what he’d been discussing with Saul – this Divine Light stuff – and that led to an hour-long debate, mostly between him and Fern.

Mark said that there is more to life than just living, that he has the Word, and Light, and Touch, and Taste, and that he now knows the ultimate harmony of the universe.Fern said that the physical world is what matters, not the spiritual, and we must do things in the here and now. But both of them agreed on the basic unity of the world – which is something I can’t buy.

We sat in LaGuardia and then I drove Amy to her ballet class. She says that she’ll never find her ideal man, who’s someone just like her. But she still likes Eric and not Mikey.

When I got home, I got a message to call Avis, who sounded very down and on the verge of tears. Scott hadn’t called her and she was frantic. I couldn’t tell her that he wasn’t going to call her, and I was grateful when she said that Shelli had dropped by to stay with her.

I’m going to school now to see Edie.

Saturday, February 12, 1972A cool, sunny Lincoln’s Birthday. So much has happened in the past days that although it’s only 6 PM, I’m making today’s entry and in tomorrow’s, I will write about tonight.

Life is weird. Really. So many things can happen and get fucked up and then turn right again, and there are so many twists and turns life can take.

I went to school last night and found Edie at the rush with her sorority sisters, who are about the ugliest group of girls I’ve ever seen. For a minute, while Edie was undoing her braid (she was in a ridiculous Chinese outfit for some reason), she looked almost pretty – but not really. We decided (or I did and she

went along with me) to see Sunday, Bloody Sunday at Kings Plaza.

In the car there, we talked but she doesn’t seem too bright. And as I sat down next to her in the theater, I noticed she had terrible perspiration odor. So I just concentrated on the movie and leaned over to her to comment every ten minutes or so.

When the house lights went up, I noticed a fat girl got up five rows in front of us; it was Shelli, with Jerry and Avis. I called to Avis, and she came over, staying that she spoke to Scott and that “we’re finished.”

During the short, I kept thinking of how strange things have become. The three of them left and I called over to Jerry because I didn’t want to speak to Shelli instead of him. I told him, “Be good to Avis tonight.” Jerry just stared at me blankly.

I took Edie home and kissed her without feeling. But I was glad that Shelli saw me out with a girl and it gave me a strange sort of satisfaction to know I can get dates.

This morning Avis called me, saying that she finally got through to Scott late yesterday. She said he was avoiding her, as he was afraid. But they had a

confrontation, and although Avis says they’re on good terms, their relationship is through.

And so tonight, I have a date with Avis to see Trojan Women and I’m no longer just “babysitting” with Scott’s girl, I’m going out with a girl who’s free.

Still, I’m not sure anything will come of it although I’ve always found her attractive. I just want to help her through a difficult time.

I didn’t do very much today: shopped and bathed and read, that’s all. Gary, pissed over Eileen’s wavering, had a date (made for him yesterday by Fern, another instigator) with Fern’s friend Ellice last night.

I hope tonight is not a total disaster.

Sunday, February 13, 1972I picked up Avis at her apartment at 7 PM last night. She seemed in fairly good spirits. She said she went to see Scott at the store yesterday, to bring him a letter from their Indian foster child, and it was kind of upsetting.

We went to the Sheepshead and saw Trojan Women; it was all right, but somehow we got the feeling that Euripides wouldn’t have wanted it that way. Then we drove over to 86th Street

and had a bite to eat at Jahn’s.

Despite her depression, Avis was very good company. I took her to Rockaway and let her drive the car up and down the Boulevard (at one point a cop stopped us by the Neponsit Home for the Aged and pointed out that she’d been driving on the broad sidewalk) and then we came back to my house, sat in front of the fireplace and talked.

Avis still loves Scott so much, I think she’ll do anything to have him again. But I couldn’t see loving her, physically, not yet anyway, even though we are going out next Friday night.

I got my eight hours sleep although there was so much to think about: the things Avis said, and everything that’s been happening lately.

This afternoon, in a pouring rain, I picked up Stacy at her house. I saw hello to Mrs. Feldman and to Leslie, who was in bed with a cold. We drove up to Lincoln Center (I drove the wrong way on Columbus Avenue for one block) and had lunch at the Philharmonic Café, then went to see the Kris Kristofferson concert.

He was pretty good, but neither Stacy nor I are much into his kind of music and Philharmonic Hall wasn’t a good place to

see him, really.

Stacy still confuses me; I can’t figure out if she’s experienced sexually. With me alone, she plays so innocent, and I didn’t do more than kiss her (I didn’t kiss Avis).

But Stacy is interesting and it’s so nice to be with a girl and really talk. This has been some weekend – three “dates” – and I’m tired. But it was a hell of a lot of fun.

And tonight I got a call from Shelli, who said she phoned to talk about Avis. But I think that was just an excuse, for she said how all weekend, she’d been thinking about things and wanted to apologize to me for a lot of shit. I said we could be friends again. We shall see.

Unhappily, Gary is in bed with a flu-like illness. He’s getting really pissed off at Eileen. Sometimes I wonder if men and women were meant to have long-term relationships.Monday, February 14, 1972It’s St. Valentine’s Day, and I had no one to give me a Valentine; even worse, there was no one I could give a Valentine to. But being alone is really not so bad, and I am content if not happy.

I had a very restless night and I felt kind of funny, as if I were coming down with something. I found a space easily in

LaGuardia, where Avis and Melvin were in the lobby.

Avis looked ill, said her stomach was upset (nerves, of course) and gave me a note to give to Scott – about their foster child. Elspeth came in, complaining of a bad cold and upset because she wasn’t invited to Ruth and Marty’s wedding; practically everyone else was, although I hadn’t expected to be asked.

Before English, I gave Scott the note from Avis. He obviously was unhappy about it and looked pretty upset. He started talking about his lousy weekend, then Kitch came in and started lecturing.

In Soc, Beer discussed symbolic interpretation; Gary wasn’t in class, of course. I talked to him later and he’s really sick with the flu, as is Steve Cooper and just about everyone.

In LaGuardia, Leon was in one of his “don’t-come-near-me” moods, so I sat with Avis and Shelli. Mikey handed me a book of mine that Stacy had borrowed – The Sensuous Man – and Shelli said, “You don’t need it.”

Maybe she had a fight with Jerry? Or perhaps she just wants to be friends. For the first time in months we really talked together, and I do like her, I guess, as a person. She even asked me

to go with her and Avis to see Sunday again tonight, but I declined.

The first meeting of the Assembly indicated JSU’s triumph: the number of yarmulkes and chais was astounding. And their candidate, Avi Sternlieb, a JDL member defeated Ira, who got nominal support from the Mugwumps as well as his own Alignment party.

Well, as Harvey told me, “I’m going to do a lot of vetoing this term.” As I walked out with Shelli, she said she might quit the Assembly; I’m pretty discouraged and angry about the change in student government.

I spent the rest of the day feeling fairly ill. Perhaps I’ve got the flu, too – or maybe I’ve just been hearing too much about it. I don’t want to be sick now, though, because life is too interesting.

Tuesday, February 15, 1972I’m feeling pretty chipper tonight, but today was not an easy one. Still, it ended well: I took an herbal bath, drank some plantain tea, washed my hair and lifted weights, and afterwards I felt great and glad to be alive.

In LaGuardia this morning, I found Peter Rosen and Mike wearing these buttons Dick Lewis ordered: “CUNY – Free

Tuition – Open Admissions – Founded 1847 – Destroyed 197??”

Mike is pretty shrewd and a good friend, but I don’t know if I can support him for the Mugwump nomination. I met Kjell on my way to class, and he said there was no snow for skiing in the Poconos. “So what’d you do?” I asked, He smirked – pretty stupid question to ask a honeymooner.

In English, Mrs. Starling went over the story of Abraham – real interesting. I’ve all but decided to drop History; I haven’t shown up in a week.

Back in LaGuardia, I agreed to go to lunch with Elspeth and Shelli. I know I’ve lost a lot of weight lately, and I purposely had just a salad and a sugarless tea to annoy the girls, both of whom could use a diet much more than I ever could.

Shelli probably paid me back for the hurt. No, she didn’t mention Jerry. Instead, she said she was at Ivan’s on Saturday night; he’s now taking acting lessons with Lee Strasberg. What bothered me was that Ivan never acknowledged my birthday gift and Shelli probably knows that.

And then she said Avis is dying to have an affair with Ivan – which I assume was

supposed to make me jealous of him. So, back in LaGuardia, I stayed pretty much away from her.

Soon I went home anyway, dropping Mason off at Kings Plaza. Mason told me that Carl pulled a Jerry on him, trying to ask Libby out – but Libby naturally had the good sense to turn him down.

Later I called Avis, who, I’m afraid, would do anything to get Scott back. I can’t help her, really, though I’m basically her only contact with him. She wishes she could help him out of his emotional turmoil in any way possible. Avis said that Shelli is a little peeved that I’m so happy. Shelli asked her on Sunday, “Is he still very broken up?” and Avis said, “Not at all; he seems fine.” Avis hinted that Shelli is having a lot of problems these days. Is there trouble in Paradise?

I made calls to my flu-ridden friends, Gary and Steve Cooper.

Wednesday, February 16, 1972Things seem to be happening quickly. I am happy, though, with the way life is working out.

Today I met a girl who seems different than any girl I’ve known. Probably nothing will come of it, but it seems

another indication that I will soon find a girl – if not this one, then another – to love and be loved by.

When I arrived in LaGuardia this morning, Leon asked me to write out a course description of my proposed EXCO course on herbs.

Avis was there, of course, still looking sad, and Elihu and Elspeth and Shelli. I’ve learned that Shelli is back in therapy again and she and Avis were considering going on a skiing trip with Steve Cooper – without Jerry.During English, Scott seemed a bit out of it, but he was trying to pick up a girl in class. I decided to cut Soc and went to lunch with Melvin and Stacy. On the way, I met Stanley, who’s still doing nothing – what a waste.

At the Junction, I ran into Dick Cioffi and I gave him the information he wanted about the faulty new construction that Councilman Haber is going to use in his investigation.

As I was about to reenter LaGuardia, Shelli cautioned me that Scott and Avis were talking there and that we should go outside. We met Gary, who’s still a bit weak from the flu, coming out of Soc.

The big lovers’ discussion over, Shelli went somewhere with Avis, and I sat

down in the lobby to read the Spigot and joke with Mike and Mason.

This girl sitting next to me finally got into our conversation. She’s been at BC only three weeks and didn’t know anyone, just came to sit down.

So for two hours, we told her about the people in LaGuardia – Leon, the deans, Harvey, SG, etc. – and surprisingly, she was not turned off. Timmy, Mike and I went with her to the deli and I think she may come back. I hope so, anyway.Her name’s Debbie and she’s very pretty. For some reason, I opened up to her right away and I felt close to her. When Avis and Shelli came over to tell me they were now working at the day care center, I could see that Shelli was jealous and Debbie couldn’t understand what I’d ever seen in Shelli.

I also sort of brushed off Edie, and believe me, it wasn’t easy hurting her. I was going over tonight to give Alice her birthday gift, but I was just too tired. Mom spent the day upstate at the hotel and still has not returned.

Thursday, February 17, 1972This morning I talked to Mom, who didn’t get home from the country until very late last night. She says the hotel is still a mess, but things are starting to pick up now.

I got to school early and brought some tea into LaGuardia, where Elihu, Suzanne, Mason and Avis were hanging out. Saul came up behind me and started kneading my shoulders. I wonder about him sometimes. Shelli has at least one very weird ex-boyfriend, and Avis says she can’t take Saul anymore because he stares at her so intently and has a bad smell.Jill sauntered in looking pleased as punch, as Hubert Humphrey would say. She got a very good job, making $130 a week as an executive secretary to the Vice President of the J. Walter Thompson ad agency.

Jill was hugged by everyone and seemed so pleased to be in such a “spiff” place with beautiful people (J. Walter Thompson, not LaGuardia lobby).

Steve Cohen finally repaid my loan but he borrowed my comb and Mason’s sweater. Steve’s birthday is Monday and I’m getting him his own comb.

At noon, Avis and I went out for pizza. She seems to be getting over Scott, but it’s still rough. We’ve become closer friends in the past week, but friends is probably all we’ll ever be.For one thing, I know she’s not in the least attracted to me.

Bored with school, I drove Leslie home – before today I never really noticed how pretty she is, but she’s only 16. I futzed around at home for an hour, then returned to BC, hanging around the Kingsman office, rapping with Dick Pontone, Robert Ross and Juan.

Then upstairs, I watched Suzanne and Shelli play chess, and when Suzanne went to her karate class, Shelli and I went to dinner. Perhaps it’s wrong of me, but I don’t think it hurts either of us, as we both know enough not to discuss our past. Mike says Shelli’s an idiot, but she’s just fucked up; I feel sorry for her, but that’s all I feel.

I went to a meeting of the Ad Hoc Committee to Fight the Budget Cuts: Dick Lewis, Ralph Greenberg, Peter Amato, Bob Lipson (Calling Card editor), Avi Sternlieb, John Caggiano and others; they asked me to serve as committee secretary and I grudgingly said okay.

Mikey called off the Mugwump meeting scheduled for March 1 when only seven of us could show up.

As snow fell from the sky, making the night beautiful, I drove Paul Zucker to his house and then came home, where I found a card announcing step-cousin Merryl’s engagement to someone named Jeffrey Alpert.

Friday, February 18, 1972It’s only 4:30 PM, but I’m writing today’s entry now because I have to leave soon for Manhattan. I’m going to pick up Avis at her shrink’s and from there we’ll go have dinner and then see Don McLean at Carnegie Hall.I don’t really want to go. I know tonight is going to be the worst evening I’ve spent in months. First of all, a heavy snow is expected. Great, huh?

The whole shitty day has been just like that. So many things just go wrong. Right now my teeth are clenched and I feel angry and sick and hungry and scared all at the same time.

Today was such a horrible day I can’t even stand to think about it. I overslept and didn’t have time to take the car to school, so Mom drove me. I slept too late having a dream about making love to Avis.

That’s a laugh, since she doesn’t care about me at all – at least not in that way. And I’m sick of all these girls wanting to be “just friends.” I want a woman, damn it, a woman who’ll love me and be sweet and gentle.

At school, my mind wandered through Kitch’s stupid lecture. Scott wasn’t in class, but going by the conversations

we’ve had lately, it didn’t mean much; he doesn’t really talk to me anymore.

And in LaGuardia, my friends – oh, they’re really great. Leon and Stanley and Mike and Mikey sit around all day trading witticisms, wasting time, avoiding life. I just couldn’t take people today: not Gary’s dullness or Shelli’s babyishness or Elihu’s snideness. I suppose I’m as bad as all of them put together. So we all deserve each other.

At home, Mom had taken my car for the day without telling me. I have to do everything myself; she has never been a mother to me. That sounds real bitter, right? Unlike the sweet, gentle Pollyanna me that usually talks about people being good and love and shit.

Well, right now, for all I care the world can take a flying leap to hell and be damned. I wish I were dead, too, but somehow things never manage to work out that well.

Saturday, February 19, 1972I got over yesterday’s terrible mood pretty quickly. Perhaps I was just having my period. (Mikey says men get them, too.)

I picked up Avis at 6 PM at the Postgraduate Center, where she has her therapy. Avis looked bright and her

mood was good, as she talked to Scott yesterday and they are apparently ironing out things. Maybe they’ll get back together, but somehow I doubt it.

We took a ride uptown and through Central Park at dusk, then went to Carnegie Hall for the concert. Don McLean was very good; of course everyone loves “American Pie” but he wrote a lot of other good songs. And it was a long concert.

Avis and I sat way up in the Dress Circle, so we couldn’t see him too clearly. From there, he looked a lot like Elihu. It was snowing when we came out, so we drove right home to Brooklyn.

Avis suggested we go to my house and we had coffee and cake in my room. We really can talk to each other; we’re good friends. But I don’t know where our relationship will go. However, even if it stays the way it is now, I shall be happy.

I know Avis is very sensual and has had a lot of relationships with men. Somehow I think it’s too soon after Scott, but we’ll take things naturally and see what develops.

A wet snow turned heavy tonight, dumping inches of stuff on the ground. This morning I visited Grandma Ethel, who seems better except that she’s

worried about Grandpa Herb not having a job.

From there I went to walk around Kings Plaza, where I ran into Craig and Linda Schrager and then Kjell, who obviously enjoys being married to Sharon.Later in the day, I went to give Alice her birthday gift and ended up sitting for hours in her bedroom talking. She’s still with Andreas, apparently very much in love. Mrs. Connors is leaving Wednesday to visit Chuck in Israel, and Alice will be alone in the apartment for two months.

Alice is a remarkable person; we’ve been friends for nearly 23 years. She thinks that Shelli is still in love with me, but then Alice always was a Shelli fan.

I spent the rest of the day inside, protected from the storm, thinking about my life and things. Sunday, February 20, 1972The snow made today an icy, chilly winter day. After digesting my breakfast and the Sunday Times, however, I decided I was not in a stay-at-home mood, so I braved the streets, which were like glass, and drove out on the Parkway towards Long Island.

I decided to go to Oceanside to visit Marty and Arlyne. Arlyne was about to

take a bath when I arrived; Marty had gone to take Wendy to the movies, but he returned shortly, and when Arlyne had finished her bath, we all sat around the kitchen table talking.Marty has put on weight but looks well. Arlyne is still going to Hofstra. We gossiped for awhile and talked seriously and it was very nice. I’m sorry I haven’t seen much of my aunt and uncle recently.

And my little godson is growing ore adorable every time I meet him; he’s the cutest three-year-old I know, even if he can’t talk so that I can understand him.

I came home at 2 PM and did virtually nothing all day until I got a call from Avis at 5 PM. She invited me over for dinner, as her parents were going out, and I gladly accepted.

I got to her apartment an hour later and she made soup, fried chicken and jasmine tea. We ate on the living room floor and it was quite cozy. Afterwards we got bored; we played cards, watched TV, listened to Melanie, and I tried to teach her yoga.

She showed me this sensitivity exercise, pretending that a little man was in my body, but it got me quite horny so I stopped. That’s the problem with my relationship with Avis. I want to sleep

with her, but I’m afraid to even start making out because I fear she’ll reject me.

She said she doesn’t wanted to “get involved” with anyone now, but she says she is “promiscuous.” It would be really ridiculous if she wanted to sleep with me, but I just don’t know.

I suppose I could clear the whole thing up with one simple question, but I’m afraid. So she knitted as we watched Elizabeth R and President Nixon being greeted by Chou En-Lai at Peking Airport and I kissed her a short goodnight kiss.

Why am I such an ass? Please tell me, somebody!

Monday, February 21, 1972Today is a holiday, the day we celebrate the birthday of George Washington, which is really tomorrow. But three-day weekends are now what the American people want, so there we are.

As I said to Avis last night while watching the Peking airport ceremonies, it’s so freaky seeing these Chinese soldiers, whom we’ve been taught to fear as our mortal enemies, playing “The Star-Spangled Banner.” And Nixon met with Mao Tse-Tung today and afterwards, at a sumptuous banquet, the

President quoted the Chairman’s poetry:

“So many deeds cry out to be done, always urgently. The world rolls on. Time passes. Ten thousand years are too long. Seize the day. Seize the hour.”

I really like that: “seize the day.” I feel that I must seize my day, too; there’s so much I want to do, so much I have to do.

I awoke this morning from a restless sleep. During the night I thought mostly about Avis. She said she “adored” Scott but that she was never in love with him, nor he with her, and all the time they went out with each other they never said they loved each other.

That led me to rethink my whole concept of man/woman relationships: you don’t have to love the other person to go with them and have sex. Perhaps that is why Avis seems to be getting over in a week what it took me three months to get over.

And for all my talk, I never did love Shelli. If it had been real love, something – I don’t know quite what – would have been different.

Today I washed the car, did some health-food shopping (avoiding the traffic at sales-struck Kings Plaza), did 75 sit-ups and not much else. But still, I enjoy

these lazy, into-myself days.I spoke to Gary, who told me he feels like a “ski widower” with Eileen gone every weekend. Do you know in all these months she has never phoned him once at home? I think Gary is getting a little peeved at her, and I can’t blame him.

I spoke to Avis briefly. She wanted to get back to the Mike Douglas show, as John and Yoko Lennon were on. Though I may be unsure about the future, I’m happier than I’ve ever been taking life day by day, living honestly, naturally. Life is good.

Tuesday, February 22, 1972I received an interesting phone call at 10 PM last night: Shelli. It’s getting so I can tell what day the State Legislature reconvenes, as I get a phone call from her the night before. Her excuse this time was rather thin – about the grades Peter gave us last term (I don’t know how I managed to get B’s in my Poli Sci classes and English, but I’m just lucky, I guess).

Anyway, Shelli could have called Stacy or any of the others, or just waited until I saw her later in the week. But she went on and on, and I felt as thought I was listening to a female Jerry drop the names of European places, art movies and painters.

Finally I got petty bored and hung up with a succinct “goodbye.” Yet I’m glad Shelli called, for now I realize what a stupid, dull girl she is and how I’m better off without her. She is still as untrustworthy as ever. Poor Jerry: I know the crap he has to put up with.

This morning Dean West congratulated me on my letter in the last Kingsman, attacking JSU, blaming their domination on campus apathy and exhorting everyone to work harder. People liked it (except JSU people, of course) and I’m proud – properly so, I think.

In English today, Mrs. Starling went over the stories of Jacob and Joseph; I’m really getting into the Bible. In LaGuardia, I gave Steve Cohen his comb birthday present and he thanked me, after which we went to lunch with Carl in SUBO.

Steve was in pain, since he and Pauline were fooling around wrestling this morning and she accidentally kicked him in the neck so that it hurt terribly when he moved it. Carl and I took him to the medical office, where the doctor said it was just a muscle strain and that hot compresses would help.

I saw Avis only briefly today, but I can feel myself brightening up when I see her. This afternoon, I saw Dr. Wouk, who

had a bad cold he’d caught in Europe.

He and I went over the past two weeks and thrashed out a lot of things. I’m going to tell Avis how I feel about her, that I fear another rejection but that I’ll be happy just being friends, etc.

My relationship with Shelli, Dr. Wouk said, was full of lies and deception on both sides. I want future relationships, with Avis or any other girl, to be, above all, honest. Besides the fact that it’s morally correct, it’s also a hell of a lot easier in the long run.

Wednesday, February 23, 1972I feel kind of down tonight; it was that kind of day. But I know that all of us have bad days and that I’m generally content with my life. There is loneliness at times and there is pain, but they’re a part of life. The trick is not to give way to despair, as I too often do. From now on, I’m going to try to pick myself up and fight.

Mom and Dad went up to the hotel this morning and did not get back until late afternoon; I have a feeling they’re going to be upstate more and more now.

In LaGuardia this morning, I gave Elspeth her birthday card and present: a bottle of essence of sandalwood.

Elspeth is the most pathetic person I know; she dresses so pitiably, she’s gotten grossly overweight and is always ill. Yet I can’t help feeling that if she worked at it, she could help herself out of her position.

In English, Kitch started going over Alice. Scott didn’t seem to want to talk with me; all he said was that his weekend trip to New Paltz was a disaster.

In Soc, Beer made a fool of himself attempting to lecture on Erikson. Gary went to an encounter group after class, so I went over to the Assembly meeting with Dick Pontone and Sam Herman, the HPA adviser.

The JSU-controlled, Sternlieb-chaired Assembly is more ridiculous any other Assembly I’ve seen. The wrangled over procedural things, elected three JSU reps to the Spigot editorial board and froze funds for Third World Edition.

I had to get out of that den of idiots, and in LaGuardia I couldn’t find anyone to eat with, so I had lunch by myself in Campus Corner. Back in LaGuardia, Jacob came in – with his boyfriend. I’d always thought he was gay, but it still was a little off-putting to see Jacob kissing and hugging another guy. He said he’s going to

California in April.

I heard Shelli tell Gary that Jerry may be at school tomorrow since he’s coming home from Albany tonight and sleeping at Shelli’s. Can you believe that still upsets me? But nowhere near as much as it used to.

Tonight I called Avis, who had a bad day coping with an accident at the day care center. She said she has a date Friday night, and from her tone, I got the feeling that the possibility of anything between us was over. Too bad. But there are other girls, and Avis and I will remain good friends.

Thursday, February 24, 1972Four inches of snow fell during the night, making today a slushy mess. I awoke early but didn’t really feel like going to school. However, I dragged myself over to the college, and this morning I finally got around to dropping History, leaving myself with 12 credits.

In LaGuardia, I chatted with Peter and Gary about politics. No Democrat has yet emerged as everyone’s favorite, and with Nixon making such a hit in China (today he toured the Great Wall), I doubt if anyone can beat the Prez. I find myself grudgingly admiring Nixon; he seems somehow more “Presidential” in Peking.

In English, Mrs. Starling went over the beginnings of Exodus: Moses and all that. In LaGuardia again, I sat around the Calling Card office with its editor, Bob, and Mike and Arnie.

The Mugwumps pick a candidate next week and it’s either Mike or Mikey; I discount Harry. I’ve been pretty loyal to Mikey, but Mike is also a good friend and is a bit shrewder. Right now I don’t know whom I’ll support.

We looked at the Playboy centerfold, and then Mike and Elspeth had to go to a Curriculum Committee meeting. They said want me to replace Mason on the committee.

I had a pizza lunch with Avis and Gary. Afterwards, Avis went for a summer camp counselor job interview, and Gary and I stopped off at the Testing Center to pick up applications for the Law Boards and the GRE’s before heading home. I’ve got to start giving some thought to law or grad school; sooner than I think I’ll be leaving BC.

I returned to campus later to attend an HPA Presidents’ meeting on the budget crisis with John Caggiano, Hope Rudman and Dean Gold.

After that, Ralph, John, Bob, Avi, Bill

Rothbard and Stu Goldstein and I had an Ad Hoc Committee meeting where not much was accomplished; there’s so little time to act, with the CUNY budget going to the Legislature in a few weeks.

I came home tired and pretty ornery; I sort of felt better after a bath, a meal and some exercise. But I guess that’s the price one pays for getting involved.

Friday, February 25, 1972Tonight I’m very moody. I alternately feel light and happy, then depressed and miserable.

I don’t think I’m well physically: my stomach has been upset for days with pains and nausea, and my sinuses are killing me. I don’t know if it’s serious, but I just don’t feel right. Perhaps it’s only my depression. It’s Friday night and I’m alone – by choice? I guess so.

Avis was staying at a friend’s house in the city, but I could have asked someone else out to the SG movie tonight at school, a preview Bill Davis wangled out of MGM.

Mom, Dad and Jonny are on their way to the hotel in the country; my parents are not home very much anymore.

This morning in LaGuardia, we all sat around reading Kingsman. There were a

lot of replies to the paper’s “In Cognito” anti-JSU editorial as well as my letter. A whole can of worms was opened up, and while everyone from Ira to Craig was preparing replies, I think I’ll quit while I’m somewhat ahead.

The only letter supporting my stand was from Shelli, though she went further and endorsed Kingsman’s proposal to invoke the 30% rule under which the college President can invalidate SG elections when there’s not a 30% turnout, as there wasn’t this time. I believe the rule is stupid and should continue being ignored.

I let Avis drive my car around after we dropped Mike off at his car; she’s getting better. As she was about to go up to her apartment, she said we might do something tomorrow night.

I had lunch at home and then returned to the college, bullshitting for awhile with the nuts in the basement of LaGuardia. When I went upstairs, I saw Debbie sitting with Mikey and Stanley.

I like Debbie enormously and I think she likes me – but something was wrong today; as Mikey noted, she seemed depressed. Debbie said she’ll come to my EXCO course (Leon’s Kingsman interview with Linda Neiman about EXCO was very Leon-like), but I should

have asked Debbie to the movie tonight.

Oh well, I’m pretty sure right now that I’ll see her again. I went with Mikey to a Finance Committee meeting. He was looking for funds for his Downstate program, but the room was filled with everyone from Juan to Stephen Lubarsky from YAF to Fran Weinberger of Hoa Binh, wanting to get funds.

So I came home to do nothing for the rest of the day.

Saturday, February 26, 1972A cold drizzle fell on the city all day. I awoke this morning with sinusitis. But with my usual (ha! ha!) stoicism, I got through the day. Gisele came in this morning to do the cleaning, so at least Marc and I didn’t have that job.

I drove to Manhattan this morning after breakfast and I walked around the Village for awhile. But the rain and the cold wind made it pretty hard to enjoy yourself outside, so I came home pretty quickly.

I spoke to Gary, who is again a “ski widower” this weekend; I think he’s beginning to get disgusted with the games Eileen has apparently been playing. We’ll find out what happens when ski season ends.

Marc took me for a drive in his car; he handles the wheel very deftly now. Mom, Dad and Jonny returned from the Catskills at 5:30, around the time I got a call from Avis.

She spent last night with her actor friend Rusty in his Manhattan brownstone but said she doesn’t get along with him very well, as he’s kind of affected.

While I was on the phone, Mom and dad took my car out to a restaurant, and when they got back I really screamed at them for not respecting me or caring for me and for being away all the time. They were impassive and there was a “scene” which seemed very important at the time but not now.

I talked it all out with Avis after I picked her up and then felt better. We went to the Rugby to see this real awful sexploitation film, Together. The worst movie I’ve ever seen, it didn’t even excite me sexually.

I let Avis drive down Nostrand Avenue to Jahn’s, where we had coffee. She said she loves Scott and told him so, but he felt bad because he couldn’t reciprocate. Avis said Scott’s just falling apart and retreating from the world.

We came back to m house where we

played Risk. She hit me over the head with the board as I was about to win. It was real nice to talk with her. But I know we should only be platonic friends, that it’s so much better that way.

After dropping her off at home, I drove by the Junction and passed the newsstand where Scott was at work, assembling the sections of the Sunday Times. He looked so sad and pathetic that I just wanted to get out of the car and tell him, “You dope, there are people who love you.”

Sunday, February 27, 1972Early this morning I couldn’t erase from my memory the picture of Scott, standing outside the newsstand at the Junction, wearing a sweatshirt, and carrying in the papers as they got ready to close the store.

I should have offered him a ride home. But would he have been receptive? Scott told Avis that he wants to withdraw from everything; something happened last weekend and he doesn’t want to see Timmy or Marvin anymore.

I told Avis I would call Scott today, but I didn’t; I just couldn’t think of what to say except that I’m around if he needs me. Whatever crisis he’s doing through, I pray everything will work out.

Avis said now she needs to concentrate on herself, too. This summer job at the camp in New Jersey “away from everything” is a part of that.

Today was a mild, sunny day; soon it will be March and spring isn’t really very far behind. I got through “the long, cold winter” somehow, and I did it very well.

After breakfast I went off to Rockaway and first visited Grandma Sylvia and Grandpa Nat, who are leaving for Miami on Friday. I just hope Grandma’s arthritis improves down there; I could see she was in a lot of pain today.

Merryl called them to thank them for their engagement gift, but everything is strained. Because of the twins’ obstinacy, Aunt Sydelle may not even go to Merryl’s wedding.

After wishing them a good trip, I walked over in the bright sun to Grandma Ethel’s apartment. She’s looking better and we had a nice visit. Grandpa Herb now stays home all day, and I think he’s beginning to get on Grandma’s nerves.

Some family gossip – Great-Grandma Bessie’s moving to Manhattan Beach, Randy’s back from Japan and just got a job in West Virginia, etc. etc. – and I took my leave.

At home, I spoke to Gary, who seemed really depressed about Eileen, about his parents and about school. I tried to cheer him up a little. That’s me, folks: I bring cheer wherever I go.

I spent the rest of the day picking out things to submit for Creative Writing, reading the papers, exercising and thinking. I enjoy these lazy Sundays now.

It sort of gives me time to rest up from the week’s activities and plan ahead for next week. I feel stronger, more secure and happier than I’ve ever been in my life.Monday, February 28, 1972A mild, sunny day. In LaGuardia early this morning, I sat around with Avis and Ira. Before English, I spoke to Scott, who seemed a bit more together today, and after class we met Avis on the stairway and he chatted friendlily with her.

In Soc, Bill Beer lectured on Erikson’s stages of man; the quiz is on Wednesday. Gary had some sort of meeting, so I went by myself to LaGuardia, looking for someone to have lunch with. But somehow it seemed that everyone – Alan Karpoff and Cathy, Steve Cooper and Stacy – had already eaten.

Then Avis came along and suggested we

go back to her place for lunch and I gladly agreed. We bought a game set of Risk so we could play; she really wanted to beat me.

At her house, I met her father. Mr. Wisotsky seems like a pretty nice guy, as fathers go. Avis made us these great fried-egg sandwiches on bagels and we drank lemonade and then played Risk.

Avis was in some pain, as her period was coming on, but we had a good time. She got her wish ad beat me badly, but we really enjoy our mock-arguments where she calls me a prick and I call her a cunt. Avis is a nice person.

Back on campus, we sat around for awhile with Leon and Debbie. As I walked Debbie to class, she said she no longer hates BC so much now that she has some friends. I’m glad if I had anything to do with that.

In Creative Writing, the class tore apart some poor girl’s story, and afterwards I hung around with Mikey, who’s anxious that Mike or even Harry might beat him in the caucus Wednesday.

I drove him and Mike Friedberg home to Rockaway, and Mason came back with me to my house, where we messed around, talking. Then we went out to a pizza dinner and I took him to his first

day at a job at the new Great Eastern store.

When I returned home, I got a message that Scott called, but when I called him back, his father said he was out. Gary then phoned with some news about his new car, a ’66 Impala.

Tonight I watched Pres. and Mrs. Nixon return to Washington after what I guess was a highly successful trip t China. And I even managed to squeeze in some studying.Tuesday, February 29, 1972February 29, Leap Year Day: we only get one every four years. Wow. Today was an extraordinarily mild day; the temperatures soared into the 60°s and it was sunny and smelled like spring.

Avis called me early this morning. I thought I had left my Soc notebook at her house and she was going to bring it in today. But she couldn’t find it, as she phoned to say. So, notebook-less, I went to school this morning.

In LaGuardia, I spoke with Elihu, who was telling me all about the Curriculum Committee. Meetings are on Thursdays, and the student members in addition to me are Elihu, Elspeth and Mike.

Mike really wants the Mugwump nomination and he may just get it. But

Mikey is a really good friend, too, and I can’t see voting for one against the other so I suppose I’ll abstain.

In English, we read the sections of Exodus dealing with the Ten Commandments. Mrs. Starling is probably the only person alive today who still calls prostitutes “harlots.”

As I approached LaGuardia, past the Frisbee games on the quad, I noticed everyone had come outdoors. Avis said she almost swallowed all her Darvon today. Something happened yesterday over the phone between her and Scott.

I saw Scott this morning and he said that he just wanted to talk last evening, but I got the feeling there was something more concrete he wanted to say to me.

Avis went to Greek; Stanley to the movies; Steve Cooper and Stacy to conspire or whatever it is they do together; Leon and Jacob went to the Pub to get drunk; so I was left alone on the LaGuardia steps.

But Renee came along and we went for lunch together. Apparently married life agrees with her. Yet I wonder if she’s not just playing house.

Craig Kutner let me see his Soc notes and I walked with Gary to the library to

get some books out.

At my session with Dr. Wouk, we discussed many things, but nothing really substantial. Still, I felt better afterwards. Driving through Prospect Park, I saw Jacob walking to his place. I stopped for a minute and watched him. I really admire Jacob; “coming out” must take a lot of courage.

I spent tonight with Karl Marx and Erik Erikson, preparing for tomorrow’s Soc quiz.

Wednesday, March 1, 1972An incredibly warm first day of March: it reached 73° and felt more like June. On campus this morning, I sat with Avis, Elihu and Elspeth.

Jacob came by, saying he’d been kind of drunk yesterday in the park. He’s leaving April 1 for a gay commune north of San Francisco and said he’ll come to my EXCO course to learn about herbs.

The Spigot came out with a blistering attack on Kingsman, especially on Karen, Maddy and Manny. I’m embarrassed to say that I ever had anything to do with the Spigot, which is now a journalistic nightmare. They even referred to me in an article as “Richard Grayson of SVR (Student Volunteer Resources).” Huh?

Beer’s Soc test was ridiculous, with one question having about 14 multiple choice answers (like “a, c and e” or “b, c and e”) and even more bizarre questions and answer choices than that. He must have been stoned when he made it up. Gary, Craig, Felicia and I wrote him nasty notes.

Outside in the summery weather, I fooled around for awhile and finally went to lunch with Timmy. He told me the story of the weekend at New Paltz and now I understand why Marvin and Stacy are so mad at Scott:

On the trip Scott made it with a girl Timmy had made it clear he was interested in first (the girl later threw Scott out of bed and is now writing to Timmy), ran through the New Paltz girls’ dorm naked, committed statutory rape on a drunk girl and did many other obnoxious things.

I realize that Scott’s very sick and needs help and sympathy. Marvin told Timmy that Scott’s promiscuity is part of his illness, but he’s still really furious).

Timmy’s story made it clear why Stacy was so pissed off at Scott, and later today I apologized to her for telling her to shut up about Scott yesterday.

I spent the afternoon with Bill Rothbard, who’s running for Prez with JSU support, and his new girlfriend Laurie Fischer as well as with Mike, Melvin and the rest of the usual gang of idiots. I think Carl is interested in Avis; it’s just a hunch though.

Later I spoke to Ronna, who’s been ill, has put on weight, and doesn’t look well.

Tonight we had our Mugwump caucus, and after interviews, we took to balloting. After Harry left the race, we were stuck with a tie until Harry and Leroy broke it by switching from Mike to Mikey.

So Mikey is our nominee for Prez. I’ve got the feeling, I told Paul as I drove him to Kharma House, that the Mugwump nominee is all Mikey will ever be. Thursday, March 2, 1972I feel weary tonight, as though I had been through a lot. It was another springlike 70° day and just beautiful outside.

In LaGuardia this morning, I was with Peter when Susan Felsher joined us. She told me that Marc and her sister Riesa were smoking the other night in their house; I wonder what else those “kids” do. But Marc is a good brother and I love him a lot.

In English, we read over the Books of Joshua and Judges. I spotted Pam Wright after class; she’s graduating and getting married soon.When I approached LaGuardia, I saw a crowd out in front, and in the crowd was Jerry, who did not acknowledge my greeting. I asked Avis, who was sitting on the side, to have lunch with me and she said okay.

We had bad pizza for lunch and we got tickets for tomorrow night’s movie at school. Avis is excited about driving her new car, but she’s pretty lonely. Yet as much as I want to help her get through this difficult time, I’d like to have a relationship with a girl that is less platonic and more sexual.

I hope to ask out Debbie. Both Timmy and Mike said, “She’s after your ass.” I don’t know about that, but I do think she likes me.

My first experience on the College Curriculum Committee was interesting. The committee – Profs. Kaye (English), Shoemaker (Classics), Eisen (Physics), Verbit (Soc), Lifshin (Geo) and Cantwell (Ed); Elspeth, Suzanne, Mike and Elihu; the registrar, Charles Wantman – went over some new courses in Puerto Rican Studies and Psychology.

I was so tired after the meeting that I went to LaGuardia briefly, just to give Mike his birthday present, then came home.

It was Jerry’s birthday today too, and I noticed a bottle of Liebfraumilch on the LaGuardia steps. (Later in the day, Gary called and told me that Jerry got very drunk and became even louder and more obnoxious than usual.)

I see Shelli from time to time, but it’s just like seeing anybody else in LaGuardia. I know now that I never really loved her; as Mike said (he’ll be a good shrink someday), it was only because of my inferiority complex that I thought only an unattractive girl like Shelli could love me.

Shelli repels me now, and I feel only a sense of a pity for her. She eats so very much, but she’s starved emotionally – and neither Jerry nor any boyfriend can help her.

Friday, March 3, 1972The three-day spring ended abruptly today as a cold, hard rain fell o the city. I awoke late and got to school at 9:30. I decided not to go to Kitch’s class, as I hadn’t read the book, and Melvin informed me that Beer wasn’t in today.

So I hung around in the lobby, reading

Kingsman and trading quips with Leon, Avis, Laurie, Elihu and Steve Cooper. The EXCO ad was in the paper; my herb course begins on Monday and I hope to make it pretty good, not just a joke.

But you know, I’m beginning to question the value of frittering away the hours by just sitting around LaGuardia. It’s such a closed society: the same old people day after day. I guess I feel secure there; well, I know I do. It’s a place where I’m somebody and where people know who I am.

We went to Campus Corner for coffee: me, Avis, Mason, Stacy and Shelli. Shelli’s now taking opera lessons, and I guess I can see her as Brunhilde. She says she’s on a really strict diet – 900 calories a day – because she has very high blood pressure. All that excess weight she carries around can’t help her, poor kid.

But she and Jerry may be coming to see The Damned tonight, and I don’t want to sit with them; being with Stacy and Steve is one thing, Shelli and Jerry quite another.

Avis and I went back to her apartment, where we watched soap operas, played with her canary and just talked a bit. I’ve grown closer to Avis than I’ve been with any girl in these past months.

Stacy says there’s no such thing as a platonic relationship. Is she right? Back at school, I had a very good talk with Timmy, Mike and Laurie. Mike’s going to be a psychologist to work with psychotics because he says that neurotics can help themselves. He’s a good shrink and a good friend.

So is Timmy, who is working to solve his problems honestly. As he said the other day, “Scott is as unsure of his masculinity as I am, but we handle it in different ways.” I caught Debbie before her class; I hope she comes to my course Monday.

Mom, whose 41st birthday is today, is leaving for the country tonight with Dad, Jonny and Jeffrey Bonchek from down the street. And I’m leaving soon to pick up Avis for the movie at Whitman.

Saturday, March 4, 1972It was snowing when I picked up Avis at her apartment last night. I met her mother; I gather Avis doesn’t get along too well with her parents, but who does?

We found Stacy and Steve Cooper (thankfully Shelli and Jerry were not there) and the four of us sat together. Snake was there with Steve Sasanoff, and I told Snake I’d come to his EXCO course on contemporary literature this

Wednesday night.Carole was sitting in front of us with Hymie, and I could hear the gears clicking in her brain, taking everything in as she watched the four of us behind her.

The movie, The Damned, was really good – I’d seen it before – showing moral dissolution and perversions in Germany as Hitler rose to power.

After the movie, Stacy and Steve followed us in their car to my house, where we had had hot chocolate and apples and sat around the living room, talking. It was a pleasant night with a lot of nice conversation (and a lot of sexual references).

Stacy and Steve make a really nice couple; they left at 12:30 AM, and I agreed with Avis when she said it’d be nice if they had an affair. Avis and I went upstairs and talked in my bedroom: she about Scott, her childhood, sex; me about Shelli, my childhood, and sex.

I don’t know what she wants of our relationship, but I don’t even think she knows herself. She still adores Scott and speaks with him, but they’re apparently not going to get back together.

I told Avis a lot of things about myself that I’ve told very few people. We lay in

my bed, and I stroked her hair, but I was hesitant about going any further. At 2 AM I took her home and didn’t get much sleep afterwards.

Gisele woke me when she rang the doorbell at noon today. I did a lot of herb-shopping today and I spent time reading up on the subject.

Gary told me he is already having trouble with his new car. After dinner, I went to Rockaway and visited with Grandpa Nat and Grandma Sylvia, who were all packed for their trip to Miami tomorrow.

I was tired tonight so I stayed in. I didn’t want to call Avis because I’m afraid of things happening too fast, of becoming too close, of getting hurt again.

Sunday, March 5, 1972A cool, cloudy March Sunday. I find that I am getting more out of life day by day. Though there are disappointments, setbacks, even tragedies, there is so much in this world that makes life exciting. I wish there were more hours in the day so I could enjoy things more.

I awoke early, and after breakfast, drove out to Manhattan. I never tire of the drive along the Belt Parkway; the open road makes me feel free and good and

alive.

I parked on Herald Square and went to the McAlpin Hotel. Hotel lobbies are fun to hang out in on Sunday mornings. I sat around, pretending to be a tourist. And in a way I will always be a tourist (“Heavy,” as Shelli used to say).

Anyway, I went to the Second Annual Natural Health Food Show and took in the exhibits of vitamins and natural cosmetics, sampled carrot juice and organic apple pie, and listened to a lecture by Miss Finland of 1930, a 70-year-old woman who looks younger than 40, on how she stays that way.

Leaving the show, I drove around a bit and walked through Times Square. I find the squalor of that area almost quaintly charming.

Back home in Brooklyn, I spent the afternoon reading and working. I watched the debate of the Democratic contenders in the New Hampshire primary. Muskie has been hailed as a shoo-in for months, but I think McGovern may run a good second.

I called Avis, who said that Scott invited himself over this afternoon and they smoked and played Risk. Am I jealous? A little, maybe, but if they can work out their problems, I’ll be happy. And I’m

glad about my decision not to get too close too soon. I don’t want to be tied down to one girl at this point.

I spoke later to Alice. Living by herself is lonely, but she’s got her work (evicting people out of Vanderveer) and night school. She’s still seeing Andreas, but since he’s busy in New Jersey a lot, she doesn’t get to be with him too often.

We made a tentative dinner day for next Friday night and caught up on each other’s lives – The Grayson-Connors Report, I call it. Alice is such a good friend.

Monday, March 6, 1972Last night at 11:30, the phone rang. I answered it, but no one said anything, and after a while, the person on the other end hung up. It was the same kind of call I got the night of Stan’s wedding, also a Sunday night, late.

My number is listed under Marc’s name, but I get the distinct feeling that it was somebody I know and I wonder if it could have been Shelli. If it was her both times, it makes sense, as Sunday night is when Jerry leaves for Albany.

What is she after? The whole thing gets curiouser and curiouser.

Which brings us to English this morning, as Kitch ended our discussion of Through the Looking-Glass. Scott sat next to me and we talked a little, but most of his attention was reserved for this girl with whom he kept flirting.

Timmy said that it’s all because Scott is unsure of his masculinity, but when I repeated that to Avis, she said that his masculinity is the only thing Scott is confident about. I wonder; Avis has got a blind spot about him, but I guess that’s how it is.

Beer again cancelled class and I sat around in LaGuardia for awhile and then went with Jacob and Gary to have lunch in the teachers’ cafeteria. I was nonplussed when one of Jacob’s gay friends came over and kissed him; it seems almost natural.

We then walked into a classroom in Whitehead, where I was to give my “Herbal Remedies” EXCO course. It went off surprisingly well; I talked for over an hour about herbs, tisanes, vitamins, and I knew more about the subject than I thought I did.

But it really love my herbs and I guess that’s what counts. Still, I have new respect for teachers; it’s very hard work, trying to talk interestingly for a period.

At least none of the 20 people walked out in the middle, and some even took notes. Gary and Jacob were there, of course, and so were Mark Friedberg, Avis – and Shelli.

We all went to the health food store on Flatbush and Glenwood afterwards. Somehow I got the feeling that Shelli is interested in me once again. She keeps complimenting me on how I look and shit like that.

Anyway, I walked Avis home, drove Gary to his place on Nostrand Avenue, then came home to study, exercise and rest. Mom and Dad live, eat and sleep the hotel now and they’re worried it won’t be ready to open on time.

Tuesday, March 7, 1972A mild, sunny day. On campus early this morning, I went into the SG office and found Harvey talking with Mike. Harvey has all but given up on student government; he’d resign, he said, but he didn’t want to leave Sue with “this mess.”

Harvey said that Craig will probably get The Alignment nomination: “He wants it so bad he can taste it.”

Sitting around with Pete and Elihu, I decided I wasn’t going to class, and when Avis came along with a joint in her

pocketbook, I willingly went with her t the lily pond.

We got nice and stoned, but not wrecked. The construction workers on top of Ingersoll watched us and started singing things like “Fly Me to the Moon.”

Avis and I were joined later by Steve Cooper, who smoked with us, and Ira, who abstained. It was a beautiful morning and we just sat and talked for awhile and everything was quite pleasant. Ira’s a real nice guy.

I went with Avis to the Junction so she could get some ice cream, then returned to LaGuardia after she went to class. Leon had a meeting of this committee he’s on, trying to institute a film studies major; it sounds good and might also provide teaching jobs for Leon and Stanley.

Renee said she’ll see me on Friday night, so I guess Alice is having a real-live dinner party. I went to lunch with Mikey and Mike, who had just come back from a meeting with Pres. Kneller.

It seems that DESU and Hoa Binh want Kneller to do something about the unrepresentative student government, and Kneller’s idea was to form a review committee. Mikey said that he’s asked Lisa Scher (of Women’s Lib and the

Grapevine) to be his running mate, but she hasn’t yet accepted.

As I walked to the Junction leaving school, I was annoyed by Shelli; I just can’t stand her anymore. As I said to Dr. Wouk an hour later, she’s probably itching to play me against Jerry again so she’ll be “pursued” by two men. Well, I’m not going to fall into her sick games.

Dr. Wouk brought up the idea of group therapy, but I’m not sure how I feel about it yet.

Muskie won the N.H. primary, but with less than 50% of the vote; McGovern got a moral victory with 35%, with Hartke, Yorty and Mills far behind.

Wednesday, March 8, 1972It was a dreary, drizzly morning, but it turned into a sunny afternoon and a very pleasant evening. Tonight I feel as though there’s some kind of unformed promise in the air. If only it would reveal itself...or would that take away some fun?

In English 59 this morning, Kitch showed us various examples of literary criticism that are parodied in The Pooh Perplex. Scott sat next to me and he seems pretty together now but said he may give up his “strict Freudian” shrink.

In Soc, we had a discussion on women’s lib during which I learned that Lisa, who’s in the class, agreed to run for V.P. with Mikey.

Beer gave back the tests, and I got an A and so am assured of getting an A in the course. Gary got a B and I was a bit annoyed at his grubbing for points the way he always does.The two of us had lunch in the deli with Steve Cohen, who seems okay although he sometimes seems to be drifting off. Steve and I went back to LaGuardia, but he left soon after when Pauline came, so I went to talk with Steve Cooper.

He said that after today’s hearing on Third World Edition, the JSU-dominated Student Activities Committee voted to revoke their charter. What racists these Jews are.

The campus is falling apart. The budget crisis may be the death knell of BC and all of CUNY. And everyone is predicting some kind of riot later this term.

Cutting Creative Writing again (they were discussing my story today), I went home for the afternoon. Grandpa Herb and Grandma Ethel came over; she’s still in a lot of pain and Grandpa still doesn’t have a job.

This evening I went to Snake’s “Up

Against Contemporary Lit” EXCO course, which met in Midwood High. I hadn’t been there in years, and it felt so funny as I walked through those (bad) memory-filled halls.

Snake was coming from his job as a proofreader at Dell (Laura now works there too) and about ten people showed up. We decided to start with Vonnegut. Snake is one of the few real geniuses I know, and I’m proud to be his friend.

I called Kjell tonight, and we rapped for a long time, about grad schools (he hasn’t been accepted yet), Gary’s eccentricities, and things in general. I wish I could see more of Kjell and Sharon.

I also called Brad, but Les, friendly as always, told me Brad had gone out for the evening.Thursday, March 9, 1972A cold but sunny day. In LaGuardia this morning, Mikey showed me a letter written, ostensibly by Larry Simon, but actually by Jerry, telling Mikey’s Poli Sci teacher that Mikey was working for Simon.

Mikey also told me that he had seen Debbie and she sent her apologies for missing my EXCO course.

In English, we went over the

monumental story of David; our first test is on Tuesday. I met Kjell after class. Isn’t that funny? I hadn’t seen him in weeks, then the day after I call him... I guess it’s always like that.

Josef said that Galin had said that my “Coping,” despite its flaws, was excellent. And I was afraid to go to Creative Writing yesterday! Overhearing this, Shelli said I underestimate myself and my writing talent.

Avis, Steve Cooper, Carl, Ira and I went to the deli for lunch. On the way, I kidded Avis about being with all these guys, teasing her that she was acting like Stacy.

And she replied that she’d been over at Stacy’s last night and that Stacy had told her how everyone had been “shitting” on her (Avis), but I guess that means Scott mostly.

I think Avis is interested in Ira – and vice versa, so it looks like we won’t see each other this weekend. And this comes about just as I was beginning to believe that she and I might really have something nice going. But asi es la vida.

The Curriculum Committee meeting today was devoted to theater workshop courses in the Speech Department, and I

spoke up at the meeting as I feel out the various faculty members: Prof. Kay is pompous; Shoemaker’s a fluttery doll; Verbit’s a schmuck.

After the meeting, Mike said he’s quite about a JSU-Third World confrontation, and not just a word-confrontation, either. I drove Bill Rothbard to the bowling alley for his Phys Ed class on my way home. Bill said he’s been suing girls as sex-objects lately – tsk, tsk.

Driving around later, I saw Scott’s friend Marvin working on his car by his house. I pulled my car over and introduced myself (he didn’t remember me) and we talked as he tinkered with the engine.

Marvin said he and Timmy talked to Scott on Tuesday, but that the only way they could reconcile would be if a long time cooled things down and if Scott’s personality changed. Marvin seems like a really together person.

Friday, March 10, 1972Last term Prof. Merritt gave our class Wordsworth’s definition of poetry: “emotion recollected in tranquility.” For the past few days, my entries have been like that, but I’m afraid that this is going to be one of my self-pitying tirades.

Things are not really bad; it’s just that a lot of little things today bothered me.

It’s as though psychic termites are boring into my mind. For one thing, my sinuses have been killing me all day; the air pollution must be very bad today.It was a bright, cold day. For the first time I met Donna, Mike’s girlfriend, who says she avoids LaGuardia and its people. I’ve begun to think she has the right idea.

When I entered the lobby, Ira and Avis were off talking in the corner. I asked Avis if she wanted to go to the hotel with me next weekend and she declined. But then Ira brought up the idea of going to these cabins upstate near Albany for Easter and she was more than enthusiastic.

Elspeth said that she’d like to go along with the, and just as stupidly, I said I’d go, too. As I walked to class, it struck me that Ira and Avis probably want to be alone with each other. Maybe I’m misinterpreting, but I guess my feelings for Avis are a little stronger than I was willing to admit.

Before English, Scott told me about going with a girl to the ballet last night, and then a girl came over, kissed him, and he walked away with her instead of going to class.

In English, we discussed literary criticism, and in Soc, Lisa led a

discussion of women’s identity problems. I’m warming to Lisa now, as a person and as a V.P. candidate.

I’ve been kind of annoyed at Gary lately, as he’s been so wrapped up in material things: his new car, grades, etc. But I don’t want another rift to develop between us.

I went to lunch at Roma II with Mikey, Carl, Suzanne and Leon. The talk was fun, but the veal cutlet made me quite nauseous.

I sat in LaGuardia lobby for awhile, listening to the gentle music coming from the guitars of Stacy and her sister, but my stomachache didn’t go away, so I came home for an absolutely wretched afternoon.Mom, Dad and Jonny are going to the hotel for the weekend again, and I’m supposed to have dinner at Alice’s tonight although I don’t really feel up to it.

Saturday, March 11, 1972It’s 8:30 PM. Marc has gone over to Cynthia’s house for the evening, and I’m in his room, sipping licorice tea and listening to the Grateful Dead, all alone in this big house.

But I’m not lonely at all. I feel very serene tonight, just as if everything in

the world seems to be tjotjog, the Javanese term for things fitting together.

Last night was very pleasant. I arrived at Alice’s at 6:30 and found her in the kitchen with Robert. He’s moved to a new apartment near Columbia and seems to enjoy grad school there, although he said a lot of people there exist only as intellectuals, not as real people.

Renee arrived with her husband and I got my first look at Bernard Birnbaum. The best way I can think of to describe him would be as a Jewish Bobby McLendon: an awkward beanpole scientist and rather dull. He and Renee do not seem to go together – but such is life, I suppose.

Alice served veal parmigiana, which I enjoyed despite my bad experience with veal at lunch yesterday. Alice looks a bit lonely; I don’t think she sees Andreas as often as she’d like to.

Robert mentioned that he saw Jacob in the Brooklyn Museum “with his friend, holding hands.” Robert said Jacob “got mixed up with a bad bunch of people.” I said that to me, Jacob seems very happy, happier than ever before. I hope he is, anyway.

After dinner, we drove over the

Birnbaums’ basement apartment and admired their crushed velvet couch, which seems incongruous surrounded by cinder blocks and other junk.

We had tea and coffee and cake and we talked. Renee showed Alice the card she’d gotten from Howie, a name from the past; Alice didn’t react visibly to that.

I left early and come home and fell fast asleep. Thank God Gisele came in to clean up today so I was able to go out. I drove into Manhattan and spent the afternoon at the Met.

There’s so much to see there: musical instruments, furniture, and costumes in addition to my favorite paintings, like Seurat’s study for “Grand Jatte.”

Later, I spoke to Gary, who’s just about given up on Eileen. It seems that she’d rather go skiing with her girlfriends than go out with him. To me, she seems very peculiar and a little too much of a JAP. But even if they “break up,” Gary will survive.

We always do survive, you know. Grandma Sylvia writes that she’s feeling better in Miami.

Sunday, March 12, 1972A miserable rainy, cold, stormy day. I

feel ugly tonight. I’ve put on weight again and I feel fat. And if I didn’t feel lonely last night, I do now.

I woke up in the middle of last night and I desperately wanted Avis; I almost think that I love her. But perhaps it’s more that I need her, a neurotic thing. I want to hug her and kiss her and sleep with her and hold her in my arms and never let her go.

Just thinking about Avis makes me horny. But what’s the use? She’s never looked at me as anything but a platonic friend; she could love Ira or Carl the way she loved Scott, but not me. What is it that I’m lacking?

I guess I haven’t really grown up at all in these past six months despite what I’ve been telling myself or what others (even Shelli) have been telling me.

Well, I’m going to crack down on myself and stick to a diet, study hard, not waste time, get into a lot of things, become more independent and try to grow up.

Living alone will help, I suppose. Except for Marc, the family will be away in the country every weekend now and I’m learning to be self-sufficient.

This morning I cleaned up the house after breakfast, and then, to clear my

heard of cobwebs, I took a drive through Rockaway.

I saw Tiger, Ivan’s dog, bounding along Rockaway Beach Boulevard, followed by the black maid. I wonder how Ian is, but I’m not going to call him, not after he never acknowledged my birthday gift.

At home, I spent a couple of hours reading the mammoth Sunday Times. The Florida primary Tuesday will be won by Wallace riding a wave of anti-busing feeling, but if Muskie doesn’t finish a strong second (and he might not; Humphrey may), I don’t see how they can keep calling him the “front runner.”

Gary came over and we took a drive to Manhattan Beach in his new Impala, which rides well. Mark is pretty disgusted with Eileen by this point.

I tried to call Mark Savage, to wish him a happy birthday, but no one was at home, I spent a good hour studying the Bible.

Mom, Dad and Jonny returned this evening from the hotel that is taking over this family’s life; I’m getting sick of hearing about it all the time. Monday, March 13, 1972A cool, sunny day. I arrived on campus at 10:30 this morning, too late to go to

English, and I didn’t go to Soc, either. I sat around in LaGuardia, talking with Leon and Alan Karpoff.

Leon’s gotten accepted to several grad schools for Comp Lit, but he may not go next September and instead might work or buy a farm.

The Assembly was supposed to do the budget today, but I didn’t go to the meeting or listen to the discussions of Steve Cooper, Aaron or the others about it. I’m just so turned off by politics and student government now.

Alex came in; it’s spring vacation at the University of Pennsylvania law school. Alex looks fine and is as pragmatically ebullient as ever. Sherie came in and they went off to lunch with Steve Cohen.

It must have been old Vice President’s Day, for I met Bruce Baltz, still on his Zionist kick.

I had lunch with Avis. I don’t really think that I love her, but I do feel very affectionately toward her. She’s sort of seeing Scott again.

They came to my EXCO course together, along with five or six others. Today we made some herbal teas and rapped about a lot of things; the kids in the group want to start an herb garden on

campus.

After the class, I returned to LaGuardia, where Leon, Mason, Mikey and I discussed how horny we were. Carole gave me an invitation to her engagement party, which is in SUBO in late April. I’ll go, just for fun. Why not?

In Creative Writing, Mr. Galin seemed to like my story; he really praised my writing. On Wednesday we will discuss my play, all 62 pages of it.

In LaGuardia, I saw Shelli with Jerry and I smiled broadly at Jerry but got no response. I now feel that I’m superior to them; I’ve gotten to healthy for Shelli’s sick games, or Jerry’s, for that matter.

After a coke with Ira, I went home to study for tomorrow’s Bible test. Mark Savage called me at 9 PM to thank me for the birthday card. I met him and Consuelo at Jahn’s half an hour later, and Mark got his free birthday sundae there.

He seems to be a bit unhappy at his job at Newsday; as h said, “I feel like I’m in limbo.” But he really loves Consuelo, and she is a very sweet and loving person despite her eccentricities.

Tuesday, March 14, 1972It’s almost midnight now. I’ve spent the

evening watching the results of the Florida primary. That ole racist, George Wallace, took 42% of the vote and nearly all the delegates, sweeping the field in the anti-busing tide.

Hubert Humphrey took second place with 18%, followed by Scoop Jackson with 14%. They both should be helped. The so-called front runner Muskie finished a miserable fourth with 9% and Lindsay and McGovern at about 6% each. The Democratic race is in a shambles.

But the day for me began early. I drove to school in a pouring rain and took the Bible test. It was all right and I think I wrote a fairly good essay, comparing Jacob to David.

I had lunch afterwards with Mikey, Mike and Steve Cooper. Telling them about last night’s dinner with Mark and Consuelo Savage, they agreed that Consuelo was weird.

But Mikey quoted Jerry as saying that marrying Consuelo was the best thing to ever happen to Mark. So Mike said, “What does he know? Look who he’s going out with.”

Then Mikey looked at me and said to Mike, “You’re very tactful, you know?” And Mike said, “Richie knows I think he

was stupid for going with Shelli.”

I think it was put better earlier in the day by Scott when he said that a year ago Shelli and I were “two lost souls.” Anyway, I really enjoy talking to Mikey, Mike and Steve; we’re really sort of a family or a fraternity.

A heavy hailstorm was falling as we left the restaurant, and as I cancelled my appointment with Dr. Wouk – I felt I needed a “vacation” from therapy – I just hung around LaGuardia.

In the lobby, I talked with Elspeth and Elihu and Laurie and Mason. The latter was really horny today. (I was getting horny, too, especially watching Sheryl. I really enjoy looking at girls who don’t wear bras. God, what pleasure.)

I drove Scott home. He was with Avis yesterday, but he says he has no plans to date her again, although that might change. He said Avis is really “getting herself together,” and while he was on the subject, he said the same thing was true of me, that I was definitely more “together” than either Shelli or Jerry.

Jerry, Scott said, used to really put me down all the time when they double-dated. It must be terrible to be so bitter: about Elspeth, about his mother, about me. I really feel sorry for Jerry – and for

Shelli too.

Wednesday, March 15, 1972A curious day. This morning on campus, I sat with Avis and Mike and Ira, talking about nothing as we usually do.

In English, Kitch and the class went over more styles of literary criticism. I’m finding myself more drawn to literature and language and stuff and less drawn to politics and social science.

I cut Soc, as did Gary, and we went to the Pub for an early lunch with Leon and Alan Karpoff. Gary doesn’t fit in too well with them, and there was a definite strain. But I enjoy variety, and I enjoy the company of Leon and I’m going to continue being friends with him as well as with Gary.

The Spigot came out, with more shit about JSU this and JSU that. Dean West told me they’re being extremely obnoxious, trying to run everything, including the Brooklyn College administration.

I decided to spend club hours, watching Tristana, the Buñuel film Leon was showing. I sat with Mikey and Mason and tired to concentrate on the film despite the fact that the burger I had for lunch was wreaking havoc with my stomach.

Then I looked towards the back of the screening room and I saw Jerry walk past Scott and the girl he was with and sit down. Then I kept thinking of all the put-downs Scott said he used about me, and that upset me.

After the film, I quickly left for LaGuardia, where I met Debbie, who came with me to my Creative Writing class and listened to the class’s criticism (mostly good) of my play. It’s funny; they found things in it that I didn’t know I had written.

Anyway, Mr. Galin called me over after class to stay late. He said parts of the play were “wonderful” and that I had “a lot of talent.” Debbie and I made plans to meet tomorrow and I felt jubilant as I entered LaGuardia.

Bubbling over, I chatted with Shelli until Jerry came and took her away without a glance at me. But I saw her unexpectedly again tonight, at Snake’s EXCO course in SUBO.

Snake’s going to be a great teacher. I really got a lot of our discussion of Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle, which I had Shelli read when we were going together.

Anyway, at the end of Snake’s class,

Shelli called me aside and said she felt strangely ill and asked me about my anxiety attacks and if they were similar. She looked awful, and sucker that I am, I drove her home.

But was she really ill or was it something else?

Thursday, March 16, 1972It started raining tonight, lighting and thunder, a real storm. It makes me feel secure to be in the house, looking out the window at the rain.

I woke up late and got to school at 10:30. I read Peter’s newspaper until time came to go to class. In English, Mrs. Starling gave me back the book of Yiddish plays I’d lent her and we did Hebrew poetry in the Bible.

There is real beauty in those poems. The exquisite parallelism makes you think about it a lot, and isn’t that what poetry should do? Of course, Mrs. Starling’s a little eccentric – she’s optimistic and cheerful to the point of obnoxiousness – but she’s a dear old lady.

I walked back to LaGuardia with Sue and waited for Mike to come out of lab so we could have lunch together. After Mike got the money Bob owed him, we went to the deli and had a good talk, sitting

across from Dean Archie and Bob Grossman, Kneller’s legal adviser.

Mike is sort of a surrogate shrink to me, and when I told him about what happened last night at Snake’s EXCO course, he said, “I think Shelli is turning off Jerry and wants you back.”

“But of course,” he continued, “that’s the last thing you want.” He told me how his girlfriend said that she and everyone else in Shelli’s Psych 25 class laughed at her because she’s so fat and stupid.

Back on campus, I sat around with some of the gang. Debbie’s been reading my play and she likes it. I think she likes me, too, but I haven’t as yet decided how I feel about her other than that she’s a nice girl.

Marie said she and her fellow sportswriter, Eloise, are going to Italy next week. I wish I could go.

Mikey was waiting to be interviewed by a leftist third world kind of group, led by Pablo Cruz, the only Puerto Rican in the Assembly.

I saw Shelli as I was leaving and she said sweetly, “Thank you for last night!” I mumbled back, “You’re welcome” and immediately left for home to exercise

and watch soaps.

This evening I got a call from Shelli, wanting to know what book Snake was doing next week, that she had “nothing to do tonight” and wanted to buy it; I told her I’d give her my extra copy of Slaughterhouse-Five tomorrow.

Ironically, it’s the very book I offered to Jerry when he came to my house last fall, the book he accused me of trying to “buy his friendship” with. Things are getting interesting, but I will not get emotionally involved with Shelli again.

Friday, March 17, 1972I’m home all alone, spending a quiet evening by myself – but I’m not bored and I’m not even lonely. The rest of the family went to the country for the weekend, so I’m holding down the fort here for the next couple of days.

This morning it was drizzling slightly when I arrived at school, sat down in the lobby and read Kingsman. The Student Activity Fee Review Committee was the main story; half-faculty and half-student, it will supposedly review the way the Assembly has allocated funds.

Prof. Kitch did not show up this morning, so I returned to LaGuardia, sitting down between Leon and Timmy. Shelli came in, with Jerry; as soon as he saw me, he

put his arm around her.

He does that whenever I’m in their presence: on Wednesday, on Monday, at Sunday, Bloody Sunday. It’s sort of an act of possession, to prove to everyone and me (and maybe even himself?) that Shelli is his.

I no longer get any kind of sick feeling when I see them together. I feel a lot more “together,” to use Scott’s term, than either of them.

I gave Shelli Slaughterhouse-Five, and as I left for Scot, she flirtingly cooed, “Poo-tee-weet” (the final word in the book) after me. I turned around and gave her a quick, false smile.

Beer said he’d give me, Gary, Felicia and Craig A’s in the course, so we left. Gary was upset because he was a weekend in Westchester on Reserve duty. We had lunch with Alan Karpoff, Mikey and Mike. The latter pair were discouraged by the meeting yesterday because they don’t think they’ll get that third world group’s support.

Mikey is being urged by Jerry and Leon to chuck running for SG President and instead take up an offer to run as a McGovern delegate to Miami in our congressional district.

I learned that Mikey was with Jerry at a political meeting last night. That helps explain things.

Avis asked me up to her apartment this afternoon and we talked and had a real good time, discussing how sick everyone in LaGuardia is. I overheard her on the phone that she was going out with Shelli and Jerry tonight.

Anyway, after dinner, I drove into Manhattan, but I evidently I just managed to miss Avis at the Postgraduate Center. I drove around in the city rain and even called up Brad to see if I could come up, but he was busy.

So I came home and her I remain, relaxing and reading, blissfully alone.

Saturday, March 18, 1972It’s 6 PM now on this clear, breezy day and I’ve just finished dinner: a hamburger made by yours truly. Avis called about an hour ago and we decided to do something together tonight.

There were no good movies playing that at least one of us hadn’t already seen, so Avis said we’d just spend a quiet evening at my house, watching TV or smoking or whatever. She’s bringing her car over here in about an hour, so I don’t have any driving to do.

I slept very well all by myself in this big house. I had pleasant dreams of going places, to Boston and to Chicago. I fixed myself breakfast and decided that I would take a little excursion to celebrate being alive on a sunny, almost-spring day.

I got on the Belt and went over the Verrazano Bridge, which no longer seems very awesome. I drove through Richmond along the road leading to New Jersey. It doesn’t take long to cross Staten Island and I was feeling good, driving 60, 65, 70 miles an hour.

I crossed the Goethals Bridge and emerged in New Jersey – Elizabeth, to be exact. I found it a dreary place and full of smokestacks and cables, so I turned around and went back to Staten Island, getting off the expressway at Todt Hill Road and rambling up winding countrified roads for awhile.

I like Staten Island – the parts that are quaint and old-fashioned, anyway. I got myself back to Brooklyn without getting lost once, a major accomplishment.

Back home, I made lunch and then was off again, to the Georgetowne Theater, to see The Last Picture Show. I’m glad I finally caught it, for it’s as good as everyone says it is.

The film is filled with so many great scenes that showed the loneliness, sterility and emptiness of a small Texas town in the early 1950s. I really enjoyed it.

I’m going to try to write a screenplay of my own soon, as I’ve fallen in love with “the cinema,” as it’s pompously called by Stanley.

After I shopped in Hill’s for some food and came home, Dad called, saying they’d be back tomorrow and that things at the hotel are going well.

Soon Avis will be here and I’ve got to get ready. I’ve got this funny feeling that tonight is going to be a major disaster.

Sunday, March 19, 1972The family came home tonight after I had dinner by myself at the Floridian. They said that the hotel is a mess – and it’s supposed to open for Passover in only ten days.

Last evening Avis came over at about 7 PM. We went for a drive in her car to Kings Highway, where we bought a pound of walnuts to munch on during the evening.

It was a quiet, relaxing night. We went downstairs and sat in chairs next to each other, covered by blankets, as it was

kind of chilly in the basement.

Avis brought out a joint and we smoked it, getting pleasantly stoned and then giggling hysterically at things that seemed terribly funny at the time. After watching a movie on television, we came upstairs again and talked and listened to records.

Avis is a gentle person, almost like one of those mid-60s “flower children” – and I think that’s her problem. She’s so sweet and never argues or raises her voice, so people take advantage of her.

For instance, Shelli stood her up Friday night. And Scott used to walk all over her. She still seems to be in love with him; they’re seeing each other but not going out.

I gave her a short kiss as she got into her car; I guess this is going to be a platonic friendship after all.

Soon after I awakened this morning, I received a phone call from Grandpa Nat, so I drove over to Rockaway immediately after breakfast. He and Grandma Sylvia got back from Florida last night and they look tanned.

But the big news was that they bought a condominium in North Miami. So now I have a place to stay down there – a

luxurious one, at that, so far as they describe it.

I guess Grandma Sylvia wants to live down there, but Grandpa Nat isn’t quite so sure. He walked me over to the Sarretts’ apartment and told Grandma Ethel and Grandpa Herb that he hadn’t slept for three nights before putting down the down payment.

Then he left and I had lunch with Grandma Ethel and Grandpa Herb, and afterwards the three of us took a walk on the boardwalk enjoying the mild weather on this Passion Sunday, the very last day of winter.

But so much of the beach has eroded away, leaving the bottom steps of the boardwalk stairs hovering two feet above the sand. There may not be any beach this summer, but Grandpa Herb says the Army Corps of Engineers may replenish the sand by piping it from the bay this spring. I hope so.