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When he got back to his house, he saw creepy-looking guys on the front steps, so he walked to Seventh Avenue, intending to call Susan. Suddenly there was a knife up against his throat, and a man held him and said, “If you don’t want to die, do whatever I say” – all this while people were walking past him, and none of them called the police.

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I’m continually amazed at the racist comments I hear from so-called enlightened people. Last night another all-white jury acquitted another white policeman of killing another black teenager, and there were disturbances in Miami. Can’t white people understand the frustrations at the constant injustices?

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There was a woman about my age at the pool, and she gave me the key to the sauna and shower room so I could wash off. She wasn’t pretty, but I couldn’t help noticing that she had a great body, and I kept staring at her. She was looking at me, too, and I knew she found me attractive.

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Susan Lawton and I had lunch at a new expensive Broadway place, The Saloon, where the waiters were on roller skates. When I ordered Perrier, she said, “Ah, I was right when I assumed you were an ex-alcoholic.”

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Josh called yesterday afternoon with very bad news: his sister is gravely ill. I said how sorry I was, and Josh said, “I’m sure you couldn’t care less.”

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Just like how a lot of the best music isn’t on the Billboard Hot 100 or being released by Atlantic Records, a lot of the best books aren’t New York Times bestsellers or published by Random House.