“

At dinner at the Grand Canyon, Dad asked me why I was staring at him. “You’re grayer,” I said, not telling him that he reminded me a little of Dustin Hoffman in Death of a Salesman. “I got old,” Dad said. “At my next birthday – I can hardly believe it – I’ll be 69 years old.” Dad remarked that the block we were on had been his territory when he worked for that private investigating firm while he was still in high school.

“

She told me how I was the best teacher she ever had, and of course I said that was very nice to hear. Then she asked if she could kiss me. Flustered, I nodded and offered her my cheek; instead, she put her arms around me tight and kissed me on the lips. When I said that I had to go, she asked, “How about one for the road?” and again embraced me and kissed me.

“

What really made me feel good today was an acceptance of the story I wrote just two weeks ago. Telescope, an influential and intelligent little magazine, wants “My Basic Problem” for their “male feminism” issue! And they sent me a lovely acceptance letter with a contract specifying a $6-per-page payment.

“

It’s killing me to leave New York and Ronna and Teresa’s apartment and the life I have here. . . In the morning, Ronna and I got ready and took the IRT to work. Saying goodbye in the subway at 66th Street during rush hour isn’t very romantic, and I had a hard time saying goodbye to Ronna. Shitfuck.

“

Thanksgiving in Canarsie was wonderful. It was the night before Thanksgiving a dozen years ago when Ronna and I had our first date (Chloe in the Afternoon at the Midwood Theatre and then to the Foursome Diner for a bite; Ronna had the sniffles and wore a blue turtleneck). Who would have imagined we’d still be this close?

“

You worry everyone in your program is smarter than you. 

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I’ve always preached that you should follow your dreams and things work out the way they’re meant to. But can you just up and change your entire path, your entire career a few years in?

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On campus, when I saw Dean Jones this morning, he said, “You still look like a freshman.” I told him I was on my way to take my comprehensive exam for my second master’s degree.

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On the way to The Bagel, I saw an old drunk puking on Sixth Avenue, and on the way back to my car I saw the same drunk, recovered, jauntily lighting up a cigar in a doorway on Carmine Street.

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Hello, my name is Susie McGraduate, I am applying for the low-paying entry level position that I came across while obsessively searching Indeed.com in a wine-fueled haze.