Richard Grayson

Richard Grayson, a retired lawyer and college professor, is the author of With Hitler in New York (1979), I Brake for ...

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A Young Writer’s Diary Entries From Mid-September, 1983

I told Dr, Grasso that the University of Miami did not work out and also said I didn’t realize how good BCC was until I left. The state mandated that all comp classes be fewer than 21 students, so she’s been forced to add on 12 sections as of Monday. “You’re hired,” she told me, and I felt ecstatic.

A Young Writer’s Diary Entries From Early September, 1983

I’ve been assigned to be some professor’s research assistant. One TA told me he often expects sexual favors from male RA’s. Not from this one, he doesn’t! The woman who told me this is so stupid that when I mentioned that I was gay, she replied, “Oh, then you shouldn’t mind at all.” Is everyone at the University of Miami crazy?

A Young Writer’s Diary Entries From Late August, 1983

Today I began my career as a graduate teaching assistant at the University of Miami. The loss of status is a bit jarring. When I arrived at the meeting, the composition program director, Kathy Bell, mistook me for the janitor and started telling me to clean up the room before I explained who I was.

A Young Writer’s Diary Entries From Late July, 1983

I was finally falling asleep around 1 AM when the phone rang. “Hello?” I said, trying not to sound incoherent. A raspy whisper: “I…want…to blow…you…” Deciding this was no one of my acquaintance, I said, “Yeah, well, we all want something,” hung up, and pulled the plug out.

A Young Writer’s Diary Entries From Early July, 1983

I’ve just been outside by the pool, marking papers through great force of effort. That redheaded guy was in the pool with (I assume) his girlfriend, and they were surprisingly friendly, telling me to jump in. I said I had too much work to do, and he said, “It’s Saturday night!”

A Young Writer’s Diary Entries From Late June, 1983

I went to the South Florida Gay Pride Festival, held at the Hollywood Sportatorium. Almost immediately, I saw a familiar face: an ex-student of mine whose name I couldn’t remember. Hand in hand with his boyfriend, and wearing an “I’m Proud to Be Gay” button and a huge grin, the kid had dignity.

A Young Writer’s Diary Entries From Mid-June, 1983

Todd dropped me off at the subway stop at 14th Street before he and Josh drove back to Brooklyn. I decided to get off at 79th rather than 86th so that I could take one last walk down Broadway. Teresa and Juliana were in their bathrobes, chatting and drinking coffee, when I got home.

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