Autumn in Brooklyn
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AUTUMN IN BROOKLYN September-November 1978 AUTUMN IN BROOKLYN September-November 1978 RICHARD GRAYSON Superstition Mountain Press Phoenix – 2009 Copyright © 2009 by Richard Grayson. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. Superstition Mountain Press 4303 Cactus Road Phoenix, AZ 85032 First Edition ISBN 978-0-578-03208-5 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 For Louis Strick Richard Grayson 1 Autumn in Brooklyn: September – November 1978 Monday, September 4, 1978 8 PM. I feel rather sad about the summer ending. It seems impossible that three months has passed since my birthday. I’ve always thought of the new year as beginning now rather than in January, and I still feel that way (even though this year’s Rosh Hashona is a month away). It’s chilly out now and today was sunny but just a bit too cool for swimming. I spent the afternoon with Josh – we drove around, played pinball at Buddy’s, chatted in the backyard. He’s just as sour on life as he always was; maybe he’s even worse. He and Simon went to the Eighth Street Bookshop to get an ABC to Literary Magazines by R.C. Morse, which I told him about. He said he saw Alice there, rummaging through magazines looking for a story by me. Laura mentioned staying with Peter Spielberg on the Cape, and Josh and Simon made the mistake of putting Peter down in front of her; she cooled considerably after hearing their comments. Josh and his friend Fat Ronnie want to start a literary magazine called Moron; the name expresses their general philosophy. Josh’s unemployment, now $125, has only 6 more weeks to run, and he’d rather do 2 Autumn in Brooklyn anything than go back to driving an oil truck this winter. Josh would like to get into advertising, but even when he offers his services for free, he’s turned down. And the fact that he’s had no sex for six months is depressing him. All the old Jewish people in his building bug him; they think he and Simon are lovers. Simon is very confused about his future and may stay another month at Josh’s before he figures out his next move – probably back to Manhattan. Josh is very broke and needs to come up with something soon. He’s still got his “life sucks” attitude and that can’t help. I won’t say that the condition of Josh, Simon, Ralph, Michael Kramer, etc., pleases me, but at least in some ways I am more ‘together’ than any of them. I’m terrified about going to Albany and it’s going to take much of the next few months to adjust to the idea of going there, but I really do think it will be a good move for me. True, I’m making it in desperation because I cannot keep living at home and teaching part-time at LIU, but it looks as though nothing’s going to “rescue” me from moving. I don’t think I’m going to be writing all that much this fall, but once I get to Albany, I think I’ll have time, distance and even loneliness working for me. Nothing spectacular is going to happen between now and January. I’ll be very concerned about Dad’s Richard Grayson 3 surgery and Grandma Ethel’s condition too, but there’s not much I can do about those thing. I expect Ronna and I will still be seeing each other, though less often; I guess we both want it that way. And deep down I don’t really think much will come of meeting Bill-Dale although I hope that something – just a good friendship, maybe – does. There’s a briskness in the air that seems to say “get on with it”; there’s not much else I can do anyway. Tomorrow I’ll get a haircut and hand in my grades in the Novel course at LIU and for the next couple of weeks I don’t really know what I’ll be doing. I do think that right now living is more important to me than writing and that my major efforts will be here in this diary. I don’t expect any ‘big’ acceptances or stories coming out and in a way I need that less and less. Maybe this loss of desperation will be good for me. School is in the air, and one part of me wishes I was beginning my graduate work in Albany now instead of in January. This morning I worked on a letter and a letter of credit and bill of lading for Dad, who’s ordering 3000 pairs of new jeans; I just hope they get here from Hong Kong in time for Christmas. Marc’s car hasn’t been found yet, and I’m beginning to doubt that it ever will be. 4 Autumn in Brooklyn Tuesday, September 6, 1978 9 PM. Years ago, when I was an undergraduate, my diary was mostly a collection of the doings of other people. Once I was so involved with my Brooklyn College friends, but now there are only a handful who mean anything to me. A few weeks ago Ronna told me that Ivan had gotten married, but I hadn’t thought that was important enough to record until now. Yesterday Josh spotted Stacy walking out of a restaurant with some guy and I didn’t even look up to catch a glimpse of her. Today Elihu told me that Leon has moved to San Francisco and that Jerry has moved back to New York City, but these things don’t really matter to me anymore. I used to be obsessed with Ivan, Stacy, Jerry and Leon, but now I’m only mildly interested in their lives. I feel just about as interested as someone I know only vaguely, like Les Kravitz, who’s running for the Assembly in this district. But I can see I’m protesting too much, and besides, I do like to tie up loose ends (that’s the novelist in me). So let’s gossip: Mikey told me that Mike is leaving Fordham for the CUNY Graduate Center because of personality conflicts and that Bob Lefkowitz owns a P.R. firm in New Jersey. Elihu mentioned that Richard Pontone is also running for the state legislature; it’s amazing how many BC people are running for office. Rhoda Jacobs, whom Elihu is Richard Grayson 5 working for, will probably make it to the Assembly this year. Elihu said he was in a bar (gay, of course) when someone he vaguely recognized came over to him: it was Jerry. He left Madison because he needed a change; he left with some money and hopes to get some kind of no-show job, the kind he’s always had starting with his job for Mayor Lindsay. Jerry’s living just down the block from Elihu on Henry Street. He said that Leon was unhappy in Wisconsin and left flat broke for San Francisco, where he seems unable to get a job. And Shelli’s doing just fine with her TV work; she plans to stay in Madison indefinitely. So that’s the story with people from my past. I am curious about them, after all – but I do not want them to be a part of my future. This morning I went to LIU to hand in my grades. Terry Malley said he saw the article on me on Page Six in the Post. Margaret told me she’d let me know about courses by the end of next week. This afternoon I got a call from a Prof. Oscar Miller at Kingsborough; the chairman had given him my resumé (I’m sure he wouldn’t have if had I not used Annette Fisher’s name). I have an interview with Miller tomorrow although there are probably no courses available to teach. If there are, and if they let me teach them, I’ll be very pleasantly surprised. I’m a fatalist now, remember? 6 Autumn in Brooklyn I got a much-needed haircut this afternoon (the sun has bleached my hair so nicely that the woman who shampooed it asked, “Is that your natural color? Oh, you’re so lucky!”) and then exercised, lay in the sun and swam (I’ve begun to enjoy being in the pool so much these last few days). I got a nice postcard from Ian Young up in Toronto – St. Martin’s is still considering the gay story anthology. This evening I called Michael Kramer, who’s been ill with a colitis- like ailment (he’s going to a specialist next week although it may just be nerves) and I also spoke to Carolyn Bennett, who’s busy trying to meet her weekly deadlines at Courier-Life. Wednesday, September 6, 1978 5 PM. At the moment I’m annoyed with Dad for trying to make me feel guilty about not working for him tomorrow when the jeans come in. But I’m staying out late tonight and I had planned to for a week or more, and I don’t intend to get up early and break my back tomorrow. I’m under no obligation to Dad. I may have to start work as early as next Tuesday and I don’t want to give up my vacation. If he wants a helper, why can’t he ask Jonny? As you can tell, I am feeling guilty but I refuse to let that guilt overwhelm me.