A 19-Year-Old’s Diary Entries From May, 1971


Saturday, May 1, 1971

Last night’s Folk Club concert was pretty nice. After Shelli was in tears saying I never want to do anything, I said I’d come there, stopping off on my way to pick up Avis at her parents’ apartment building.

Avis and I found Shelli at a table in the café, sitting with Scott, Kieran, Stacy and Timmy, and Renee, who was covering the concert for Kingsman. Sindy played the guitar and sang original songs. Actually, Sindy was really good, especially her songs about Kent State and My Lai.
Personally, though, I prefer Shelli’s singing. Anyway, after Sindy got finished playing, I felt bored, and with Shelli’s permission, I left with Renee before the concert ended.

Later, Shelli said it was good because she wanted to stay and smoke with Avis and Scott, and I wanted to go home — she knows I know Renee from elementary school and junior high — and we both respected each other’s wishes.

I saw Ray and The Bitch on my way out of SUBO; they’re driving down to Washington to participate in civil disobedience for May Day.

At Renee’s place, we had a nice long talk, centered on how little we really know about Alice. This Greek guy Andreas, Renee said, is like a father-figure to Alice. Renee has met him. “If he’s thirty, he’s not a young thirty,” Renee said.

I slept soundly and woke up late on this bright, mild May Day. After breakfast, I went to Shelli’s house and while waiting for her, I talked to Sindy as I watched her make out her wedding invitations.

First, Shelli and I went to the college library, where she had to get some education journals for a report she’s doing for Poli Sci. It was going to take too long to xerox them so I slipped the magazines under my jacket and walked out with them. We’ll give them back when she’s done.
At Avenue U and East 16th Street, we had salads in a new Greek restaurant; Shelli’s on a new diet. Then we went to the movies, to see Brewster McCloud, which Shelli enjoyed enormously and which I really liked the second time around.

By the time we left the theater, it had clouded up, and we drove home. Grandpa Nat and Grandma Sylvia were over, watching the Kentucky Derby in the basement. We went downstairs and talked with them. Grandma Sylvia said she likes my long hair; she’s getting hip, I guess.

Then Shelli and I went to my bedroom, where we undressed, went under the covers, put the chair by the door (to prevent another grandfather from accidentally walking in on us), raised the TV volume, and unexpectedly had intercourse.

“Shelli, do you realize what we’re doing?” I asked her, breathlessly as I penetrated her.

“Shut up, I don’t want to know,” she said, and then she cried out when I broke her hymen.

You know, it’s even better than it’s cracked up to be. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much blood at all.

I drove her home to study and came back to my house and ate Chinese food with my family. Things are so much better with the family these days now that we’re not at each other’s throats.

Tomorrow’s Country Fair.

Tuesday, May 4, 1971

A nightmarish day. It began pleasantly enough, with my meeting Shelli for coffee in the Faculty Dining Room. I went out to campaign for Leon, as did Elspeth, Allan and Shelli. Aaron was angry with us for switching sides, and I was embarrassed to face Pam, but there was no one else campaigning for Leon.

Mrs. Schlissel didn’t show up for English again, so I went out handing leaflets. The Finance Committee recommended no further funds for the Spigot. Student Government instead will come out with special issues once in a while.

I talked with Ivan, who was waiting for Ronna. When Shelli came out of Poli Sci, we went to the SUBO dining room, where Jack told us that Karen was elected the new editor-in-chief of Kingsman. Jack also told us about the political ambitions of Dick Wright and Marty Markowitz.

During the meal, I became very nauseated and went home directly. I lay in bed, sick and weak and nauseous, for a few hours. Then Shelli and Gary came over with big news: Rabbi Meir Kahane, the Jewish Defense League leader, came to the college.

There had been friction on campus in the past few weeks between blacks and Jews, and today’s riot started when some students, notably Crazy Artie, kept on playing the same Israeli song over and over again on the blacks’ jukebox in the SUBO basement.

Anyway, it seems that there was some instigation by Kahane, and soon a full-fledged race riot was underway. People ran around with sticks and clubs, SUBO was closed and cleared out, LaGuardia was sealed off by the cops.

Shelli and Gary ran off without Shelli’s coat and with Jack’s wristwatch, which he had given her when he went to join the fracas. Shelli and Gary stayed for a while, although at this point I can’t stand him anymore. (Elayne said he was insulting me behind my back.)

Shelli went back to school to listen to the election results, but who wants to hear about Harvey’s victory?

There are reports on TV and radio that Kahane will be back tomorrow and there are rumors of trouble.

In Washington, over 7,000 of the May Day antiwar demonstrators were arrested, beaten, and held in RFK Stadium overnight without being arraigned or being given food or medical care. Finally they let most everyone go. I hope Ray and Lou are all right. It feels like we are living in a fascist country.

I continued to feel lousy this evening. I had a fever and felt nauseous and went to bed, although the whole thing is probably emotional.

Wednesday, May 5, 1971

It’s been an eternity since yesterday. Late last night Shelli called me with the news that I lost the election and she won. Harvey got more votes than Aaron and Leon combined.

I was depressed about the results, but a lot of our Upper Slate people lost, including Elspeth, Evan, and Timmy. And Shelli, Ari and Allan were our only Lower Slate winners.

Now Shelli is a rep, and I’m nothing. The Spigot is gone. Harvey’s people are taking over the offices, and I no longer have any place to go.

After a sleepless night, I went to BC only to find cops everywhere. There was only one gate open, and you had to show photo ID cards to enter the campus. It was reminiscent of a year ago: picket lines against CUNY tuition, antiwar guerrilla theater outside, crowds of people milling about, and rumors everywhere.

Mikey, Alex and I handed out day and evening school Student Government leaflets urging people to leave the campus to preserve the peace. A court order was taken out with an injunction forbidding Meir Kahane and the Jewish Defense League members from coming on campus.

The black students had taken over Whitman, and there was so much tension in the air, you could cut it with a knife. The SG election was forgotten, except for Harvey’s gloating and our people’s residual depression.

Jerry said that trouble would break out, and I was worried because yesterday’s riot was really bad, with many students injured. Kingsman and Spigot decided to pool their staffs, and I was at a confab with the two editors, Mendy and Larry.

Shelli left with Jack for a rally at Bryant Park without telling me. On the quadrangle, the JDL had a rally and vowed to take over Kneller’s office. Finally, the helmeted Tactical Patrol Force formed a line and all campus gates were closed.

There really looked like trouble, and at one point, seeing an imminent riot ahead of us, Renee and Gary and I held hands and ran away. Then, gradually, things calmed down considerably. I sat around with Marty, Bob, Mikey and Joel, all depressed with the way the college was falling apart.

Shelli came over tonight and she reaffirmed her love. I wonder if there’s something keeping us apart now, though. Being in bed with her was heaven. Today Shelli saved my sanity with her love.

Thursday, May 6, 1971

A heavy, steady rain fell all day. I had a good night’s sleep and felt much better this morning. My picture was in the Daily News today, in a group of students watching yesterday’s trouble.

The rain seemed to have calmed things, and although a Post story said BC “learned its lesson,” there are tensions simmering under the surface.

When I got to school, Dick greeted me with, “Hello, TV star!” and Elspeth, Mikey and Fred Franklin also saw me last night on Eyewitness News, handing out the SG leaflets urging students to go home. It’s funny to see yourself on the tube.

Harvey’s government is taking shape. I feel sorry for poor Mrs. DeSouza, having to put up with that crowd for a whole year.

Jerry got his notice for a draft physical in two weeks. He hasn’t been accepted into a law school yet, either. Jerry has no physical illnesses or problems, so he’s going to claim he’s gay. Now obviously that could work for Leon or me, but I doubt Jerry can pull it off. And if it doesn’t work, Jerry says he’s going to jail.

Shelli came by and we went to Kings Highway, where we had pizza, bought Mother’s Day cards, and looked in on an off-track betting parlor.

Then we went into Judd’s, a menswear store whose owner owes Dad over $1,000, and I bought an olive double-breasted suit for Sindy and Kieran’s wedding. (I got my invitation in today’s mail.)

We had a good time, and I immensely enjoyed this afternoon’s respite from the past few hectic days.

When we got back to LaGuardia, Pam and Larry Sparks wanted to talk to us. Pam may not run for Assembly Chairwoman again, and Larry’s concerned about funds for Third World Edition under the new student government. We need to do something to prevent the black students from being totally powerless.

Crazy Artie walked in. In a way he triggered all the trouble by playing that song on the blacks’ jukebox over and over again. Aaron gave him a good talking-to.

Richard Pontone and Terry and Renee want me to join Kingsman. I just might do that but I like being freelance and not having to report to anyone.

Shelli had to go downtown with Sindy, so I left campus for home. Mark called tonight, and I told him of Harvey’s victory and the end of the Spigot. He was depressed at the news. For the first time, I got the feeling he was disappointed with his choice of Mendy as his successor as editor.

“But whatever you do, stay active in things,” Mark said. I’m planning to.

Friday, May 7, 1971

An idyllic spring day. Kingsman and Spigot both came out with a special joint coverage of the week’s disturbances. Today the campus was quiet, but the word is that Monday may be a day of trouble.

Prof. Han gave a Poli Sci quiz today and I did rather well. There were several bomb threats during the hour, and Dean Gold sent out Harvey, Elspeth and Mikey to search for a bomb, but they found nothing.

In Russian we began Chekhov, and in Art we learned about Bruegel.

Allan said that since Pam’s not running for Chairwoman and the Alignment is going to put up Steve Denker, our only hope to get any kind of victory is for the Mugwumps to support another Alignment person, probably Bill Breitbart. That sounds like a workable plan.

Shelli, Jack and I had franks and knishes for lunch at the College Deli and we decided to form a new student group, the Committee for Responsible Judaism, to combat the JDL. We applied for a student government charter to be recognized as an official group, with me as president and Jack as vice president.

Don was on campus today, so I guess Harvard Law School’s over for the year.

Ray got a 4-F by getting letters from shrinks, and Bill Beer of Sociology (who was arrested in D.C. on May Day) is throwing a party to celebrate Ray’s draft status tomorrow night.

Shelli was anxious to get to my house, but when we got home she was disappointed to discover her period had arrived. We got into bed, but even though she kept her panties on, we had a lot of fun anyway.

Mom is trying to get Shelli to diet, and it’s upsetting Shelli; I wish Mom wasn’t so concerned with stupid things. After dinner, Shelli and I drove around and went to Prospect Park, where we watched the lake and kissed on the grass.

When it got dark, we went for a drive and then to Georgetown, where we got coffee and apple pie at the Pancake House and window-shopped in the stores. Back at her house, we talked in the living room with her mother, sister and Kieran.

After they all left, we hugged and kissed. Despite all our problems, we do love each other.

It’s 11:30 PM and Dad still hasn’t gotten home from a meeting with The Pants Set lawyers.

Monday, May 10, 1971

It turned mild and sunny today. All at once the world seems to have become green and vibrant.

When I got to LaGuardia this morning, I found a group of friends having a languid discussion in the lobby. Gary said he got stoned on Saturday night – I forget where.

In Poli Sci, Prof. Han discussed the Chinese Cultural Revolution. He’s giving us a take-home final on Wednesday, to be due a week from today. In Russian, Prof. Roberts lectured on Chekhov; next time we discuss The Brothers Karamazov and then we have our final.

I got the biggest surprise of my life when I pulled an A on my Art paper on Martin Schongauer. Since I’m taking the course pass/fail, I’ll be exempt from the final – and a damned good thing too, since I cut that class so much, I had absolutely no idea what was happening.

Afterwards I met Shelli in front of LaGuardia. Jerry is really on a bummer with the draft physical. He’s not going to classes, has been getting drunk, says he won’t graduate this term, and is really depressed.

While Shelli went to Speech, I talked to Jerry. He says he has two options: pretend to be gay or resist the draft and go to jail. But there are a million ways to get out of it.

For example, Jon Z had his physical today and was classified 4-F because he aggravated his asthma by constantly smoking cigarettes all weekend. Normally he doesn’t smoke, so by the time he got to Fort Hamilton, he could hardly breathe.

And look at all the crazy things Leon did, like sucking his blood and throwing up on the sergeant. Leon and I tried to convince Jerry that you’re dealing with an immoral system and you don’t have to be above-board. But maybe, as Jill the psychology major says, Jerry wants to be a martyr.

Student Government is arranging for buses to Albany for a demonstration against the budget cuts on Wednesday.

I met Shelli after class and we went to the coffee shop to have lunch with Matty LeVine and Brendan Fitzgerald, who make a nice couple, I guess. Then Shelli and I left four hour homes early to do work.

I read outdoors on the porch, talked with Evie next door, watched soap operas, tie-dyed a new shirt, and spoke to Shelli about seven times. Grandpa Herb came over for a while this evening. I’ve been reading this real good book on China by Alberto Moravia for Poli Sci.

Nixon was close by, at Floyd Bennett Field, today. It’s going to become part of a new Gateway National Park.

Wednesday, May 12, 1971

Only 25 people showed up at the college this morning to go to Albany to protest the budget cuts: a very bad turnout.

In Poli Sci, Prof. Han gave us the take-home final; it’s long and the questions are hard, and I hope I can do a good job on it by Monday. In Russian, we discussed The Brothers Karamazov; we read a lot of amazing books this term.

Our Russian final is on Friday, and I went to the library to xerox some notes I’d missed from a classmate’s notebook, and then I got some books out for Poli Sci.

Gary and I walked Shelli to her Speech class, then went to eat lunch together, along with Kieran, who joined us at the coffee shop. Today Gary got his first letter from Kjell in basic training and showed it to me.

Kjell’s really depressed, the way Gary was a year ago at Fort Polk. He hates the harassment of Fort Campbell, “this shithole,” and misses Brooklyn, his parents and friends, and Sharon most of all.

Shelli was very upset that today was her last session with Dr. Stone. Students can see counselors only for one semester. He gave her a list of three different psychologists she might want to see, but they were all men and I think Shelli might do better with a female psychologist like Dr. Wouk’s wife Rochelle.

Last night Ivan called up Shelli and insulted her, as she says he always does. He announced that he was transferring to BC next year and will eventually become president of Student Government.

Mendy told Shelli she needs to persuade me to volunteer to become editor of the Spigot so we might get funding for it. For some reason, he thinks I am the only person Harvey and the Alignment people would trust to run the paper and keep it going.

We introduced Stacy to Mason, and it looks like she’s trying to make it with him. Then Shelli and I went back to my house. In bed, we talked and made beautiful love. I dropped her off back at school to study, but she left her book in the car, a fact I didn’t notice until I got downtown.

Dr. Wouk and I had a so-so session, centered on trivial things. Back on campus afterwards, I couldn’t find Shelli but I did see Marty and Jerry come back from Albany. They may call a strike over the issue of imposing tuition on CUNY students.

Elayne said she’s leaving for Europe in two weeks. She told me that Leon’s begun to smoke grass lately and he’s really grown dependent on it. Elspeth visited Mark and Consuelo last night, and she said Mark finally got that job at Newsday.

The yearbooks arrived, and I exercised my muscles by carrying the cartons of books downstairs to the Broeklundian office with Jon Z, Jon K, Stanley and Elihu.

The yearbook is a big egotrip for Laurie and her crew. I did like the way they organized the graduating class photos: alphabetically by first name.

Later I spoke to Shelli on the phone and she was upset about a lot of things.

Saturday, May 15, 1971

A cool, sunny day. I had trouble getting to sleep last night and had to take sleeping pills at 2 AM. I woke up with a barbiturate hangover. My room is being fixed up in preparation for the new carpeting I’m getting on Monday.

I picked Shelli up at noon. Her mother is always very sweet when I’m around, but Shelli tells me it’s an act. We rode to the college, where I looked for some books on Japan for my Poli Sci exam.

Then we decided to visit Jerry. He’d arrived at his apartment just a few minutes before we got there, with the “gay” clothes he bought for his draft physical on Wednesday.

Alan Karpoff didn’t come through with the shrink note. Jerry said, “He and the rest of the Rockaway crowd are not the world’s most responsible people.” So Jerry’s going to play it gay, with some lessons from Leon and Jon K, whose sister is gay.

We took Jerry out to lunch at the Floridian and then went out for a drive through Rockaway. We passed Mason, Mikey and the rest of the Rockaway people playing ball.

I wanted to stop and say hello, but Jerry, sitting in the back seat close to Shelli, ducked down in the car and said, “Keep going! Keep going!” So I went over the bridge back to Brooklyn and we sat in the rock garden on campus for a while.

Jerry hasn’t slept much lately and is really a nervous wreck. We analyzed the whole LaGuardia crowd, and I said I was planning to start my novel soon.

Jerry talked about Leon and said he only decided to run for president after Charlie started crying terribly after the second caucus.

The three of us returned to Jerry’s apartment and talked some more. Suddenly, though, he seemed to be acting coldly to us and we decided to leave, but first I went into the kitchen while Shelli asked him what was wrong.

Later she told me that he turned away, and not looking at her, said that he wanted to go to bed with her. That made Shelli and me feel even sorrier for him, but we managed to forget him and make love in my bed.

Shelli gives me so much joy and I know she’ll be faithful. I love her.

Tonight I finished my Poli Sci final, the last of this term’s work. Marc returns from Washington tomorrow afternoon.

Wednesday, May 19, 1971

A bright, mild day. Jerry was on the phone with his brother in the FBI last night – he hadn’t spoken to him in years – so I couldn’t reach him, but Shelli managed to.

This morning I called her and said we should go to Fort Hamilton and wait for him to come out at the gate. We were about to go when we got a call from him, telling us he’d already come back and that we should meet him on campus.

Shelli and I hurried to school, where we found Jerry exultant. He had taken the mental test and then said he couldn’t take his clothes off because he was a homosexual. (I have to admit I must be dumb, because I don’t see the logical connection.)

They sent him to the shrink, who didn’t ask him any questions at all and just sent him to the last station, where he was classified 4-F. Incredibly simple! I felt wonderful for him; Shelli kissed him and I shook his hand.

We chatted with Avis, bogged down with finals; Hal, who told us dirty jokes; and Alice, on her way to a job interview. A bunch of us – me, Shelli, Jerry, Bob, Jay, Leon, Charlie and Mason – went to Andrew’s Tavern to celebrate Jerry’s 4-F status.

Afterwards, Mason, Shelli and I took a walk and ran into Benny, with whom we had a typically weird conversation. Phil said the English final was murder, so I’m glad I was exempt; Phil will be going to summer school, too.

At lunch at the Pub, Sindy told us she doesn’t think she’ll get accepted to law school in Seattle, where Kieran’s going to med school. It seems very hard to get into law school this year. Jerry and his friend Howard called Toledo to see if there’s any place for them there, but there wasn’t.

I came home, leaving Shelli to study for her Psych final. Our house is still being painted and the place is a mess, but Mom went into Manhattan with Dad to do some buying for the Pants Set, so I picked Jonny up at P.S. 203 at 3 PM.

Then I drove downtown to see Dr. Wouk, and we had a good session. I think he’s a fascist, but he won’t admit it even if he’s a follower of Ayn Rand. We discussed my future; Dr. Wouk said not to worry about it, just be selfish and do what’s best for me.

I surprised Shelli at the SUBO study lounge. Before she saw me, I just stood there watching her studying, and I found her irresistible. We had coffee (her) and tea (me) at the Colonial Pancake Inn and then we parked in front of her house, talking quietly and making out.

We have such a beautifully special relationship; I guess it is love. My love for her matures and grows, and things are getting even more beautiful. Life is good, knock on wood.

Saturday, May 22, 1971

An emotionally exhausting day. I think my affair with Shelli burned itself out today. I’ve usually written about the good parts and soft-pedaled the bad ones, but there have been quite a few bad moments.

I got into this thing with her so quickly, and today, for the first time, it hit me that I’m not emotionally mature enough to handle a boy-girl relationship.

Shelli affectionately calls me “Baby,” but that’s what I am: a neurotic baby who isn’t mature enough to love or be loved by anybody. Not to say that Shelli’s so mature, but at least she’s more honest to me and to herself.

After waking up this morning, I called her up and drove over to her house. We went to Georgetown, to the supermarket, to do the week’s shopping for her family. The goodies cost over $50, and there were many heavy bundles.

I got upset and we bickered all the way back to her house. She made me lunch, and then we went to my house, to my bedroom. I had a hard time getting an orgasm.

I really don’t think I love her anymore, yet she is beautiful and gentle and fragile. But we keep hurting each other so much, is it worth it?

She made me a delicious dinner – steak, carrots and homemade french fries – and I pretended to hate it. She wanted to go to Elspeth’s party, but I didn’t.

On Wednesday, Dr. Wouk and I discussed these feelings: my stubborn neurotic refusal to go through with things like that. I just did not want to go to that party, but she did. However, she didn’t want to go by herself, she only wanted to go if I would join her.

We had a terrible fight in the car; we really hurt each other so much, I wonder if the wounds will ever heal. Finally, after agonizing, I gave her money to take a taxi to Elspeth’s, and Shelli, deciding she should assert herself, took it and went to the party.

When the cab turned left and I turned right at the corner, it symbolized what has become of our relationship. Perhaps it’s for the best, but I don’t know where to go from here.

Sunday, May 23, 1971

An extraordinarily beautiful day. I had a bad night, and when Shelli called this morning, she and I didn’t get on very well. But then we realized the inescapable conclusion: that we both love each other very much.

When I finally realized we should get together today, I went to her house. We hugged each other, but there was a slight holding back. She had a “mediocre” time at the party last night and was driven home by Gary.

We went out and parked on Flatbush Avenue by the Prospect Park Zoo, where we walked around and I bought Shelli a balloon as we looked at the animals. We especially liked the llamas and the tiger.

Crossing Flatbush, we walked to the Botanic Gardens and strolled through its unearthly beauty, smelling the flowers in the Garden of the Blind, marveling at the bonsais in the hothouses.

Sitting in the idyllic Japanese gardens, we sat down and talked. Last night in the car, Gary told her that since I never took her anywhere, she “should get a new boyfriend.”

He offered no suggestions as to who that might be, but she told him that he might be right but there was one thing preventing that: that she loved me very much. That creep is not my friend.

Forgetting the upsets of the past, we walked to Eastern Parkway, which was closed to traffic for the Crown Heights Day street fair, where we bought hot dogs and punch from a church group and listened to an old people’s chorus from a senior center sing Dylan songs.

We also got free soybeans from an ecology group, went up on top of a fire truck and rang the gong, signed a peace petition, got a free Sesame Street book from a Brooklyn Public Library table, sucked on lollipops, listened to a Caribbean steel band, laughed, smiled, kissed and loved.

Back at her house, after Kieran and Sindy left, we made love in her parents’ bedroom and I never thought anything could be that beautiful. We actually had three orgasms each in the space of one hour. Shelli seemed to love it as much as I did. What a fantastic time.

Late tonight I listened to Bill’s radio show on WBAI about filming on location in New York City.

Thursday, May 27, 1971

A mellow day. I arose late, fighting to gain consciousness, as if I’d been drugged, and called Shelli; we agreed to meet for lunch at the college.

I spent the remainder of the morning finishing Madame Bovary, a book I enjoyed a great deal.

Arriving on campus before Shelli did, I spent some time talking to Ronna and her friend Susan. I find them quite vacuous, but I think that they both have crushes on me. And I learned from Shelli that Stacy said she wanted to go to bed with me.

I wonder why girls are becoming attracted to me. It seems odd.

Jerry, Elihu and Leroy, a funny black Kingsman photographer, played a game of stoopball inside the building. I didn’t do very well.

What seemed funny to me was that Jerry and Elspeth, who was watching, began talking to one another: just about the game, nothing really directed to the other since they haven’t spoken since their broken engagement.

Shelli came along, depressed about a Wackenhut’s remark about her weight, and I tried to cheer her up over lunch. We went with Stanley into the bookstore, too; Stanley said this summer, he’s going to try to catch up on his reading. So am I – but I say that every May.

When we returned to campus, Shelli and I joined a slapball game outside. It was a great deal of fun, but my team (me, Jerry, Elspeth, Ray and Mikey) were shellacked 23-13 by the team of Shelli, Mike, Jill, Allan and Elihu.

After the game, Shelli called home and was pleased to get a C in Psych. Earlier, I’d gotten the expected grades of A in English and B+ in Poli Sci in the mail.

To celebrate, she took me to Wolfie’s for an ice cream soda, and then we went to my house and made love in my bed. We become one during that time; it is a fantastic feeling, penetrating into her, losing myself in Shelli.

But we are attuned to each other in ways that aren’t sexual: we share a lot of stuff. I hope our relationship isn’t neurotic, but I fear it may be. Yet I love her a lot. After dinner, I drove her home.

Monday, May 31, 1971

Another cloudy, rainy, miserable day.

May ended today with Memorial Day. Tomorrow is the first of June – five months of 1971 have whizzed by. At the start of this year I would have never guess what things have happened, especially my romance with Shelli.

By the end of the week I shall be twenty years old, with two decades of living under my belt. Yet I only feel I’ve begun to live.

I didn’t really begin living until perhaps two years ago, when I started to recover. Despite the fact that my bar mitzvah was seven years ago this weekend, I have just recently become a man.

I had a dream-wracked sleep last night. After breakfast, I hurried to Kings Plaza to take advantage of the sales in the department store. But the place was already a madhouse, with women fighting each other for bargains, hundreds of people milling about, trying to get something for nothing.

I got disgusted and went to The Pants Set, which was empty although Merryl was in the store.

Back home, I watched some soap operas before going to pick up Shelli. We took a long drive in the drizzly weather, to Coney Island. This was the first day the beach and the amusements opened, but Shelli didn’t really want to stop and I wasn’t too enthusiastic, either – Coney Island is, sad to say, a bad slum.

We got on the Belt, as Shelli said she wanted to visit Ivan, I drove out to Rockaway. But Ivan wasn’t home, so we headed back to Brooklyn, fighting the Kings Plaza traffic.

We bought Italian ices at Ices Queen on Utica and went to my house. In my bedroom, we had a good time, laughing and frolicking (Mike says we’re always frolicking) and making love (I bought some condoms earlier).

Shelli had to get home early, to prepare for going to Sindy and Kieran’s graduation tomorrow. Later this evening, I spoke to Shelli, but she’s not feeling well, and I hope everything goes all right. I’m looking forward to hearing Ramsey Clark speak.

On the news, I spotted Mansarde on a film clip of a Madison peace march. Dad took Mom out for their 22nd wedding anniversary tonight. I watched TV, began reading Pere Goriot, and prepared to go to bed early.

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