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

In Surfside, I walked over to Danny’s for an early dinner. Who should sit down next to me at the counter but Isaac Bashevis Singer and his wife Alma. He looked very frail, and one of his shirt buttons was undone. I couldn’t figure out what to say to him and finally decided to let the man eat his matzo ball soup in peace.

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

On Friday night, Teresa went out to a bar with Judy and Juliana. She started talking to this guy, who asked her out for coffee and said he’d take her home. The guy was an amiable loser: “He didn’t even know what gentrification meant.” But what really bothered Teresa was that neither of her friends called afterwards to find out if she was all right.

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

Susan felt Sean was cruel to have disappeared and left me no way to contact him in the first place, and that he compounded his cruelty last night on WFLA by calling me with 50,000 people listening in on the radio, giving me no way to respond to him personally or to find out where I can reach him.

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