June 1991

I told dad that instead of getting informed about homosexuality he just sits there and does nothing, hopes that I'll change. Well, shit, enough time has gone by for him to process this. It was an intense fight. There's no way I could fully explain my life to him, what I think and feel. I didn't cry during or after our fight.

Talked to Santi. He said I could stay with him if I ever needed.

Graduation is tomorrow. Thank you, God, for helping me through high school, the plays, the people, those mornings on the bus and in the snow. And thanks dad, for everything…

At graduation I was voted Student of the Year by the faculty. Now it's officially over. Marcelo, Lisa, and I went out dancing at the Bistro and had a good time. Afterward we went to the lake to watch the sunrise, singing Madonna.

Overslept and missed breakfast with Santi. Then I went over to Ed's. I fucked him. It was good. No regrets.

Helped Santi move some heavy things in his apartment.

My back hurts. I don't know if it's from helping Santi or fucking Ed. On the plane to California I suddenly started to get nervous. Suddenly I didn't want to see anyone. I didn't want to deal with mom, this woman, this mystery. Mom and Jackie picked me up from the airport and we went to Sausalito for coffee.

Jackie was just in the room and said, "Emil, there's fruit in the fridge. Help yourself. Remember, you are what you eat!" Isn't that funny? I love it. I'm getting used to being here. There's lots of pain. I feel mom's unhappiness.

Mom and I left the Bay Area and are now in Turlock. It's so quiet here. The sun is perfect. I found a porno in the VCR. I'm thrilled because I just rode my old scooter, which dad had bought for me, around the block. I'm trying to figure mom out, who she is, and in turn I'm not being myself. God, all I want is for her to be happy. It's rather complicated. Beluse is in San Jose for the rest of the week. I'm sleeping in the guestroom. In my parents' old bed, in fact. While mom was out in the afternoon an Assyrian friend of hers stopped by. I didn't know how to act, what to say. Of course I invited her in, offered her something to eat or drink. She was your typical Turlock Assyrian woman. We ended up chatting for a half an hour until mom came home. She said that her husband was still back in Iran, and that she came here eight years ago with her children. I felt so sorry for her. Our family never had it that hard. At one point I wanted to burst out crying. I thank God so much. I sat outside for a while and heard mom's friend say to her in Assyrian, "He's so nice, Violet. At first I was looking at him as a child, but then we started talking and I got embarrassed and acted properly. He's so polite and so cute!" In Assyrian it's funnier. I was cracking up.

People came and had Turkish coffee with mom. I love mom so much. This unhappiness of hers kills me. How could I make her happy? Looking at my life in Chicago from here I wonder who I've become. And wonder where I will go from here. I want to share my feelings, but I have no one to talk to here. Mom picked roses today. They're on the table. She looks so lonely.

Beluse has come back. Mom's not speaking to him. I like Beluse but I miss being with people my own age. I mowed the lawn today.

My back still fucking hurts. "That's what you get for slaving for other people," mom said. I told her that I don't regret helping a friend, then added, 'Or, maybe it's from sex!' That shocked her. I've just learned that my maternal grandfather in Iran had divorced his third wife. Call me crazy, but I think there's something eccentric about older Assyrian men divorcing and remarrying. Mom and Beluse are talking again, I guess. I'm reading a lot. I rode my scooter out to nowhere and had a cigarette. It feels good to know that I have a whole life to live still.

I called Desiree and we made up.

The thought of me having sex with a guy sounds really strange way out here. Some of mom's friends have some interesting Iran/war stories. We went out to an orchard but all the cherries were gone. We ate other fruit from the trees. Mom and I are comfortable around each other again, but I can't bring myself to tell her I love her. I guess if I tried I could. I really should.

Dream #1: I was sitting on the edge of a cliff with friends. I told them that if we were to fall we wouldn't fall far because of other rock ledges below. I demonstrated by rolling off the cliff. I safely landed on a stone platform. But then I unintentionally fell to the next, but grabbed on to the edge. It was frightening. I managed to climb back up to my friends. Kelly said, "Oh, you're back!" Dream #2: I was taking care of a retarded child. I was working on a computer and she kept hitting the keys and messing up the screen. I yelled at her to stop. In a low innocent voice she whispered, "Don't get mad." 'I'm sorry,' I said, 'thanks for reminding me to have patience.' Then beautiful colorful images flashed on the screen. Images of monsters with many eyes and many arms, frightening but beautiful. Then the word Humankind flashed repeatedly on the screen.

Neno is at least fifty. He is a distant relative. An Assyrian artist. The fact that he is Assyrian and an artist is really attractive to me. We went to his house and he showed me his own fashion illustrations. I fell in love with him. He got so excited to find out that I want to be a designer. I want him, to be in his arms, his student, his slave. I loved his work, which ranged from pencil to watercolor to oil. He looked at my sketches and gave me pointers, and said he wished I lived in California so he could instruct me. God, I wanted him all night. I would look at him and then at his wife.

Jamie said the stupidest thing to me today. She found out her hairdresser is gay so she stopped going to him. This from a nurse! What was I to say to her? Sometimes I hate my family.

"Do you want to see a psychiatrist?" is all that mom says.

Beluse and Jamie got into a debate this morning over God and religion. They always do. Beluse doesn't believe in God. Boy, did mom make a big mistake marrying him! I'm so fucking bored.

Beluse told me today that I'm ungrateful. The asshole doesn't even visit his own mother who now lives only three blocks away! I'm thinking about going back to Chicago earlier than planned, but it would hurt mom so much.