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

Blair is 17, wears four earrings, is being published in his sister’s boyfriend’s Austin punk fanzine, and has been paid for sex. He began the letter “Dear Mr. Grayson,” and ended “Your friend, Blair.” I’m getting old, pardner. Last night one of my students handed in a paper on Jello Biafra and thought he had to explain to me who Jello Biafra was. “I know the Dead Kennedys,” I snapped defensively.

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

You can’t make anyone love you, and if you could, it wouldn’t be worth it. Still, getting dumped hurts. Yes, yes: intellectually, I know it could never have “worked out” with Sean, and like my breakups with Ronna and Shelli, this will prove a blessing in the long run. But right now I feel like crying.

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

I had a terrific publication party. The guy who ran the bar said that only James Michener had a better party at this B. Dalton store. I felt, as Ronna suggested, like a bar mitzvah boy, surrounded by people I care about: Alice, Teresa, Ronna, Josh, Mikey and Amy, Larry, Wes, Mark and Consuelo, Stacy and her girlfriend, Pete, Justin, Susan and Spencer, Mrs. Judson and Wayne, Elihu, and so on.

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

Crad wrote that things are pretty rough in Toronto: The weather has been mild, but people here are shriveled up emotionally. They don’t smile the way they did before Xmas. And down in the financial district, they look really sick, mean and pathetic. I’ve been peddling ‘Hot Financial Stories’ with little success . . . During all of January I made about $129. Sometimes I feel like giving up.

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

Gary is a prude and is worried because Summer used to go out every night after her broken engagement, angrily picking up sailors, seminary students, and assorted Mr. Goodbars. She sounds like a mental basket case. The poor sap – he’s heading for yet another romantic disaster with this woman.

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

The Esquire piece on Miami, “The City of the Future,” convinces me that if I don’t get a really good teaching job this year, South Florida is where I’ll stay. Growth will continue as Miami becomes, like New York, a truly international city. There’s still time to get in on the ground floor here.

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