August 1994

I love living. Sometimes I picture myself as a Michelangelo figure, windswept and half-naked, waving goodbye to my teens. The twenties will be wonderful. Chicago summers are fierce and dangerous. It rains suddenly, madly. Thunder. Lightening. Mad downpours mixing mud and sending streams, makes me wish for a lover to come from teenage-like dreams. There is so much I don't know about my father, although we live together. But I have given up for him, as if my own aloofness will anger him enough to prove me wrong! I'm struggling with my friendship with Brandon and smoking pot. I can't seem to hang out with him and not smoke. I question his presence in my life. But when we are with friends and laughing, Brandon resting his arm on my leg, feeling close and comfortable I forget my resolutions. So, you know what I'm going to do? I'm simply going to be my age and do the bad things people my age do, and work, and go to school, mess around with a man here and there, and survive it all! Deal? Who am I writing all this for? Will I even read any of this in the future?

Went to my first ballgame at Wrigley Field. It was very exciting. My family stresses me out. Aren't they supposed to be a source of comfort and security? Aren't they supposed to be there when all else fails? I spoke to my aunt Jackie who asked if I have a girlfriend. A frightening question to be asked. Am I any safer being gay in America than in Iran? Wish she knew and I wish I didn't have to be the one to tell her. What a responsibility! As if life weren't difficult enough. I wonder if I should write her a coming out letter.

Every time I ride my bike I feel so alive. Twenty was full of fascinations and revelations. I will miss it and will someday wonder if I was in fact ever that young. Dad's been drunk every night and two days ago I told him that he needs professional help. He claimed he could quit drinking on his own. Why are addicts so stubborn? Merle is a wonderful lady. She is a beautiful black woman with whom I work. She calms me when I get out of control. Today I said to her, 'Merle, this whole Philip thing makes me see myself in a new light. I've always claimed that looks aren't important to me, but Philip's presence challenges that. I'm really disappointed in myself.' She simply told me that I have a right to have certain expectations of the people I date, and pointed out that I am also not attracted to Philip character-wise. I do have to admit that I get a hard-on every time I think of that night- Philip over me, behind me, and in me.

Kelly invited me to the Ravinia with her family and ex-boyfriend who was visiting from out of state. It was a gorgeous summer night to be outside and listening to live music. There were people on blankets, candles, wine, food. And my fascination. Kelly and I took a walk around the park, shared a marguerita, smoked Marlboros, and talked about Tim, her ex. She said she was almost certain he was bi, if not gay. A little later Tim and I took the same walk on a path that wove through the crowds. A wonderland of music and blankets. Tim spoke freely to me about his curiosity, his smile was flirtatious, his confessions erotic. He said, "You are so beautiful." I said, 'I feel good.' We paused under a tree. Light faded, the candles glowed. Tim talked about his fantasies and the way he masturbates- one hand on his cock, fingers in his anus. I was hard. He said, "I would love to make love to you." And kissed me in front of all those people. It was as if we were alone. As we strolled back to the others I spotted my favorite radio DJ, Terry Hemmert, whom I'm sure is a dyke. I stopped her as she walked amidst the people, alone, tall, and masculine. 'Terry?' "Yes," she answered without reservation. 'I love you! You're great. I listen to you in my car and your presence brings me so much comfort. Thank you. We need you, ' I spouted. She smiled warmly and thanked me and we moved on. Tim later told me that she had whispered into his ear, "You take care of him." Now I wonder just what power was manipulating the night so beautifully…

Twenty-one. I know this will never change. No matter how old I get there will always be fascination.

Philip messengered a birthday present to the office. A small book of Zen quotes and a poem. I wondered what this meant.

Am I an alcoholic? Should I not look into this too deeply? I'm being silly.

Sunday I got very drunk and high and wonder if sober friendship is possible with Brandon. I thought some more about dad and my own measly addictions. For a second I felt dad's torment, the suffering he must endure as an alcoholic. It's unimaginable. I feel I've been so oblivious!

Is AIDS inevitable because I am gay? Is it my destiny?

Being gay does mean falling in love- madly- with fabulous women!

Went bike riding with Philip and it's decided. He's just boring… as friend or lover. Later I went dancing with a friend and did a bad thing or two. Who am I? Don't I love myself?

The twenties are going to be trying in a different way than the teens.

Tired. Tired of the things that continue to haunt me. Tired of being hard on myself. Tired of being a youth in America. Tired of finding the right way to say things. Tired of thinking. Tired of my stomach that isn't flat. Tired of my father. I feel I haven't loved in so long, that I haven't truly cared for anyone. With those I know I pretend, I fake it. So this is what it comes down to? To shutting off? Don't tell me, another depression visits.

After some debating went to Belmont rocks, the gay beach. Curiosity took me there but what made it such an issue? Am I homophobic? Yes. I am. They intimidate me. Shouldn't being among men like myself bring me comfort?

Sometimes I display alcoholic behavior. My father's father passed away this week in Iran. If dad were sober I'd comfort him. I try to see his pain, his reasons for drinking, but I cannot. And my grandfather's death? It doesn't seem to effect me. It's been ten years since I last saw him. Yet a part of me, most of me, likes all this, loves life. Driving to class today I thought, I should become a priest. I certainly qualify. I'm gay, poor, and celibate!