July 19, 1991
Friday noon

I think we are getting Paul's family trained. They now stand around the bed and talk to him and his sister even touches his arm. I guess I'm being a little hard on them. Like it or not we have become the experts -- I remember the first time I met anyone with KS lesions on their face.

Paul woke up, or so Mark said, and recognized Cyrus this morning. I tried to wake him up when the family came in but Bill made me stop. It doesn't really matter, the nurse said if he's tuned in he is, if he's not he's not. His breathing is strange, sounds like he's moaning but the doctor said it was because his throat is dry and swollen, not from pain. I had to be there when the family arrived so they wouldn't go running to the nurses station demanding morphine.

Paid all my overdue bills this morning and feel relief. But now I don't have anything in my bank account until the next check comes. There's one more small one after this then I have to sell something right off.

Went to the gallery to give them a press list. Wanted to do it before it got too hot but now it's too hot first thing in the morning. One nice this is that people are wearing their underwear outside on days like this. Said on the news that the ozone level is bad. Why don't they call it smog anymore? Too LA?

Trekking to the hospital nearly does me in and I bought a bottle of Evian on the way. Not only does it taste bad -- not like spring water -- but it's expensive, too. I guess I'll go back to Canada Dry Seltzer (it's imported, right?). I have to make sure I drink enough water in this heat or I get sick. Guess I should stay in the apartment and work until I go back up to the hospital.

Paul's Mother managed another disaster -- to take her mind off her son -- lost her credit card at the restaurant last night. I suggested she call the restaurant first but she wanted to call the credit card company first. I left about then.

Told Pam at the gallery about the Catholic editorial T sent and will send her a copy. She's a recent convert (boyfriend, I guess) and is learning the ropes. The priest that confirmed her said there are two kinds of Catholics, Irish and Italian, and she was definately an Irish Catholic even though she's eastern european. Apropo of therapy she said she'd be afraid of going to a Jewish shrink who might tell her it was all superstition.

Well, of course it is but that's not the point. Calling yourself Irish Catholic without setting foot in the confessional is a way of excusing everything that's wrong with you so you can get on with life. Isn't that what religion is for?

I've thought of setting up a table for last rites for Paul but then his family would really have a cow. Instead Mark is calling around trying to find a Black Lesbian Rabbi in a wheelchair to perform the service -- Paul would find the irony in it. He has found a Lesbian Rabbi.

I don't want any of that nonsense and want my ashes scattered in the dunes at Jones Beach. I remember working for this guy a few years ago planting flowers at Manhattan Plaza. He and another guy asked the rest of us to take a break and leave them for a while and it was only much later that I learned they'd buried a friend's ashes among the petunias. How many people are secretly planted around New York?

Or, maybe have my ashes made into paper then bound in a book. Too artsy. I worked with a woman who put her sister's ashes in a painting. I asked her how much the painting would sell for but she said she would never consider selling her sister.

EVENING
Watching a show about Georgia O'Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz that shows how boring artists usually are. Georgia is planning to go off to Taos without Alfred.

Mark and I had dinner and plotted ways to get rid of the family. Mark thinks somewhere Paul gave him the power to restrict visitors. Paul's Mother is losing it.

(Mabel Dodge Luhan doing the Indian Welcome Dance by way of Martha Graham)

Paul's estate is around $500,000 -- Mark get's 1/3 and the foundation gets 2/3 and has to generate at least $5,000 a year. If it doesn't the trustees (Eric, Wendy, Mark and me) are required to sell stock. Mark is going to gave a lawyer set it up. I don't know if the trustees get paid. I don't care but how are four people on different continents going to make decisions?

Mark is also Paul's literary executor and is thinking of having his short stories published. I think they are on disk so I told him to do a small unedited edition for friends and see what happens. I've read some of them and they're very much in the style of David Leavitt, too much so. If they are published the proceeds would go to the foundation.

(Alfred has discovered some babe at Lake George, Georgia has discovered cow skulls).

Violent but short thunder storms just passed over and now it's back to hot and steamy. No end promised to the heat and I can't go to the beach until Paul is settled. His body is adjusting to the morphine and they're afraid to give him bigger doses so he's more agitated. The doctor said it wasn't from pain but of course the family think it is. Actually, I think they just want him completely sedated so they can morn comfortably. They have all watched "Longtime Companion" and keep telling him to "relax" and "let go". Mark and I both know that he knows what's going on, he keeps saying he wants to go home and asks why they are doing whatever it is when they do something like give him a shot. He doesn't want to die and doesn't want to let go. He wants to live and he wants to go home. I wish we'd been able to move him home before this because we'd all be happier and could lock the door and refuse to let the family in. I tell Paul to do whatever he wants to do.