20 May, 1996 1:14:11 PM My high school reunion is coming up in a few weeks, and for some reason I've decided to go back to Tampa and be at this event. I don't expect that very many of the people I knew throughout high school will be there unless it is highly convenient for them. Any of them who I've talked to during the last few months have said that there is nothing they want less to do in this world than attend their 10 year high school reunion.

Somehow, my feelings are the opposite. I have this idea that in another 10 years I'm not going to have any feelings whatsoever toward my high school, and this may be the last time I make any effort in its memory.
	A lot of people I knew in high school are still in school. I've been out of school for almost 6 years, and I do not expect ever to go back. It's funny to me how things that happened years ago still feel like they just happened, but things I did last week feel like they happened a lifetime ago.

I went to a Jesuit high school in Tampa, Florida. For some reason I can't hear or say the word "Jesuit" without thinking "foulmouthed Jesuit." The two words seem inextricably linked, maybe even warranting a hyphen- ation.

I don't know if it's because I'm thinking about Jesuit these days, but I started going to church again. The one on Park Avenue and 80-something street, over by where all the rich people are. I tried going to the one over here on 79th Street, but the place is just too big, and the priests and speakers seem to be miles and miles away up there on the podium. When I go to the Church on Park Avenue, I don't actually go in to the chapel. I stand around out in the lobby while the service is happening inside. I like to read the brochures and look at the schedules of events, imagining myself to be the sort of person who goes to Catholic Singles Dances and meets that charming, tolerant woman of my life who must be sitting around somewhere in this city at this very moment.

Sometimes I can hear the congregation singing, and very rarely I can hear the priest's voice raising itself above its usual tone. I think he raises his voice in good humor, perhaps when he's telling a joke of some sort, but I can't really tell. I can hear the congregation laugh sometimes, and I can almost always hear the church organist start to play. Sometimes I think about opening the doors a little bit, so I can get a glimpse of what's happening inside, and who is in there. The solitude out there in the lobby is both comforting and vulnerable. Standing outside in one place anywhere in this city can be dangerous.

Just last night, as a matter of fact, I was standing in front of Coliseum Books on Broadway and 57th Street, waiting for someone to meet me there. While I waited a guy came up to me and said "Excuse me, I need to get to the shelter on Lafayette..." As soon as he started talking I held up my hand as a gesture to stop, because I was not going to give him any money. He said "You know, the world is full of cocksuckers." He walked away, and I did not move. A few seconds later he passed by me again, this time adding "And you're one of 'em, you fuckin' cocksucker!"He walked away from the building and toward Broadway, turning around and shouting "Cocksucker!" at me.

I went into the bookstore, figuring it would be easier to avoid trouble by waiting inside. When I went outside again, about 10 minutes later, he was still stumbling around, and he came back over to where I was standing. He shouted "FUCKIN' DIPSHIT!!" in my face. It was starting to feel like Usenet. For some reason there were suddenly cops all over the place, but they weren't paying attention to us, and what the hell could they have done anyway? Anyway, I'm going to church again. It's a start, toward what end I do not know.