Richard Grayson

Driving through Prospect Park this evening, I saw Jay walking to his place. I stopped for a minute and watched him. I really admire Jay; “coming out” must take a lot of courage.

I believe I have a workable plan to rid ourselves forever of these enemies of progress.

As I said to Avis last night while we were lying on the floor, smoking grass and 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.”

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.

Renee is getting married Thursday at City Hall to this “nebbish” grad student whom Alice described as “an ugly Woody Allen.” Alice thinks Renee is marrying him out of loneliness. The way Renee put it was: “I need a cheerleader.”

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.

Congressman Dellums said we must form a coalition of “the new niggers” and he pointed at a white woman and at me with my long hair and said that in today’s society, we’re considered niggers, too. “And we niggers are the majority,” he said.

Ivan said he and Allan came back from the beach to see Jerry and Shelli making love on the waterbed. Everyone laughed, but I excused myself from the table as Allan was describing Shelli’s ecstatic groans during sex with Jerry.

One girl, whose name I can’t remember, sat next to me, talking about this and that. Her pale blue Oxford shirt was buttoned low and I could see her creamy bare tit. God, she was beautiful.

I am not happy. I am miserable, tortured and in agony. I think all the time about suicide. Life just doesn’t seem worth living and I want to die. I can’t do anything: I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t function.

Things are not going easily. Last night Shelli told Jerry she loved him. And he loves her. And I’m alone.

At home, I called Gary, who said he spent the weekend “on the hunt” — for girls.  I read some Wordsworth and Poli Sci stuff and watched ‘Jude the Obscure’ on ‘Masterpiece Theatre.’

All of us went in for a rap session. I was the only guy there – the woman in charge said they were always glad to see boys show up – and it was fun as we discussed all the various birth control devices. I learned a lot, and they gave us coffee and donuts.

I would like to analyze Tao Lin’s defamation claim against Sarah Weinman, both as an intellectual exercise that may have practical value in warding off costly litigation among two respected writers and a demonstration for law students and graduates taking the July bar exam on one way to analyze such a claim.

As I left, Ivy said next time I should bring my girlfriend and Hal and I could have a boxing match in the backyard and she would root for me and my girlfriend would root for Hal.

When Shelli finally showed up, she had news. She got a phone call from Barry Siegel, the guy she met in the Georgetown bookstore the other day.

I realize that one can’t turn heterosexual overnight, but I thought I’d no longer be having gay desires.

We had a terrible fight in the car; we really hurt each other so much, I wonder if the wounds will ever heal.