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A Writer’s Diary Entries From Early October, 1986

There’s a very pretty girl – about 22, I guess – who lives here. Last night her mother said, “My daughter thinks you’re very handsome.” “Has she seen an optometrist lately?” was my lame reply, but when I spoke to Delia today as she was sunning herself in front of their townhouse in a red bikini, I felt excited. I mean, I’m gay, but I’m not that gay.

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