I took all this ANGER, this BRUTE ANGER with the ghost of Barbara Harris and cleaned this three-bedroom apartment —flipping the mop— boom. These losers. They had no idea who they were dealing with: Dante. I am Dante. And all of Naples —believes it. They believe that I am Dante and I went through the USA FAMILY INFERNO for a real reason, okay? And they said it on the Feast of Santa Lucia, the mysterious holiday during the Christmas season, when unexplanable occurrences happen. It’s just,” shrugging, “the way it is.”
“Can be.”
I’m telling you, I cleaned this apartment girl style, that means the doors too—I hate dust, and so does Barbara Harris. Now, is she real? Is Barbara Harris really haunting/helping me? It feels that way sometimes, okay? But people were talking to me like yeah, totally. She’s totally for real.
So I went into the HOSPITAL — ooooo scary, oooooo scary — at the end of trying to write (cleaning grime angrily) a stupid story about this sex scandal I was in. So I’m pissed, clearing ALL COUNTERS in the kitchen, and I’m channeling my rage for the good of my house and male roommates.
“Next week — fridge.”
I couldn’t finish the deep clean. It’s going to take another round or two, as I’m fine if I don’t have nice furnishings but the hardware is my target. I ended up in the hospital. I was admitted, which I don’t understand as a term, into the hospital, as I went through a real emergency, the Monday afternoon after Mother’s Day 2021 to make it mythic. I was there for one full day and I was released.
Like hell I was going to stay here, so I was there for two nights.
UM, Barbara Harris, in the midst of my world crumbling down — boom — she appeared in my mind as there was imagery during all this, sure, at times, I was going through a lot— so she appeared a NINJA on the psycho-spiritual plane: Jean-Claude Van Damme. It made me laugh so hard, and no, I am not confused. Amazing, she always was, and someone famously mentally ill, right, but a mysteriious genius because of it? And it made me laugh, like, of course she’s actually a superhero.
And, in the end, here we are… doing the cleaning… so anyway, the basic problem is care.
Bellevue? Bellevue Hospital? They are supposed to know how to handle trauma cases. That’s their arena. Now, my friends clearly didn’t tell them I came from that background? So thanks, by the way, on that one. Never made sense, right??? I never made sense around that story??? The hospital is on my side, in this case, I’m almost certain of it. My friends aside, you’re supposed to know how to administer care.
Dante was here, for sure, my friends. Everyone in Naples, Italy, as I have family there, my cousins, they’re reading this and going — already — “oh shit!!! You put Hades in there?!! Oh shit!” High five, down low, “yes I did.” That’s how they would actually react. Naples is an ancient city, the land of Dante. At school, everyone memorizes, literally, all of Dante’s Inferno for class. So everyone is quoting Dante.
So yes, I was recalling this experience, and remembering that I had inserted Hades into the mix, consciously, and the moment he appeared in my mind, I saw “Naples” played by a character — going OHHHHHH shit!!! She did it! It’s Hades… like they would recognize him right away.
I’m recalling this: I went into Bellevue and I had decided, as I was going through a real mess, that I would insert a character consciously as something to think about, yeah, like a guide, or something to keep me grounded, even, like in my mythological reality, not to get heady, but in the mythology of this, I was in hell. That I knew. We all know who Dante is. In Naples, in Italy, his name is on every piazza. This is Dante. So, I was in hell, that’s where I was.
Nothing but applause from Naples. “What happened?”
All I gotta say to them you see, to make them laugh is, “and maybe these people would be worried, at the hospital, if I think he’s real… is he real?” Hilarious, modern people. The modern people. It’s not an insult, it’s just a strange question to have. Is he real? No, I’m chill. I went through a large hallucinatory event, along with this, but I didn’t know what it meant. I’ll continue breaking this down because there was transformation in it, I went on a particular journey. However, let’s begin with the most important part, not what I went through…
I don’t understand WHY people treat mental health cases without the basic idea of care. Think like a doctor. WHERE is psychology in mental health, even? Do you understand? There’s a whole field, psychology. Where was it in practice here, at Bellevue? Aren’t you supposed to be “the ones?” My problem is not the staff. When you tell me — we want to see you talking to people— as they said to me, you see. “Oh really?” I said. “Sure,” I might have been going through a lot, but sure, “how did you get here?” I sat down in my room and started getting to know my roommate Lisa Rios. Inquiring. I’m there.
Another girl came in, Nicole, a Black woman, suddenly, and at least there’s cultural sensitivity if you will in the staff, and again, they were the unsung heroes of this…institution, subtly. She was crying, she was a mess, and she collapsed on the floor. The woman was about to YANK her off the floor, and right there, I just crouched down, real gently, you see, I got a little caring. I looked up at the attendant, the staff, just a little care, okay, as you gotta be careful in this place. You can’t disrupt too much. She let me be, she let me handle it, and I said, “are you okay?” Give her a minute, in other words. Who cares about the rules of the floor? She got up, okay, in a bit of time, I followed her, a little, nothing crazy, just emotional, so she got up pretty quickly, actually, on her own. She needed to sleep, as she was still upset, and I said, alright, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here, though technically I’m not supposed to do that. I mean, in terms of administering care, I am not a Black woman. Right? As the problem is care, not me.
I was there, if you would, I was there, and I don’t know what that means in terms of anyone else, but I was there, so if you tell me to TALK to people, maybe you should talk to people. Sending me a music man, “why am I here?” I asked. They sent me a music teacher, which was so funny, like do you, looking up, around, usually send in backup? Or support tools? Really? What happens here? I read the Bill of Rights in the hall. I did that early on. Number one: you will be informed of your diagnosis, didn’t happen. Never did. Number two— I walked up to the Bill of Rights again later when they sedated Lisa Rios — for no reason — as far as I could tell.
Number two: they wrote that they were not going to do that. They did.
They left me alone though I was the disrupter, in this case.
We had begun talking about her family. Her sister called, somehow, as we did.
From what I could gather, they didn’t even know what to do with me? I asked — a novel idea — WHY am I here? More than once to more than one person. You see, once I was in there, if I stared telling them the family story I came from, I’m only going to look crazy. No one here is equipped to deal with sexual abuse, come on.
But that’s not the global point — care is.
It does not exist.
Once they sedated Lisa Rios — suicide attempt???? Was that what she was? Why did they sedate her? She was sitting there and opening up about her family, why she was here, and people get nervous. Interestingly, her sister called RIGHT then. We were both surprised. I was clearly going through a lot, but I accompanied her to the phone, as I don’t trust families, that’s first. Please, you think my family would have told the truth? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not saying that to her, don’t be silly.
Anyway, they sedated her, for no reason, either, from my perspective, as we were just talking, and I went in to check on her, as I had slipped out of that room real fast, real fast, like those are a lot of officers for that, no? I said that to them, gently. She was out the rest of the day and night. Time feels weird in there, so I don’t remember the time, but she had been reading Egoist, and the light had filtered through the window on her, it was a spiritual shot, she looked beautiful. Just because I was curious, I had asked them upon arrival for some books — I had wondered what was laying around, you know. I was trying to focus, concentrate, and I took Jurassic Park and The Egoist in with me, tossed those in, just to see what would happen. And there was Lisa Rios… reading it, really studiously. She was like that “What if Gods were One of Us” song.
Okay? I went to her, “do you need water?” I asked. I realized then, you MUST be joking. Where’s the water? This is care 101. So I walked out, and I got a little angry, or not angry, a little annoyed, quite frankly, like I’m here, look — “where’s the water?” Looking at her, like, seriously? “The water? You can’t just give someone drugs, okay? The water?” Oh over there, she pointed. “Uh huh, cool, thank you…do you have a cup? Okay, thanks, thanks for the water,” I lifted my cup at her. I gave Lisa Rios some water, right? Care. And then, I realized that no one administered basic care here, so I went back out to ask for myself. “And me? My water? Excuse me.” I asked for a cup. There’s no care. No offense. I was crying, and finally, an attendant had a human moment with me, where she just let me know, “you can’t cry in here…” she said, “you’re human, sure, you can cry, but you have to sort of put that away here…” Okay, that was tough, but I appreciated that moment of honesty. It was hard not to cry, in that moment, because in some cases, crying might greatly benefit them, it has a therapeutic function… I can’t stand this subject. Okay, no tears.
Are we supposed to be monitored 24/7? I didn’t pretend we weren’t being monitored, because why would I? Hi, hello, nothing major, but okay? I took more showers than God, man. Did no one see me struggling on the floor with THAT area of my body? You see what I’m saying? If you come up to me and ask me if I’m experiencing hallucinations? Shut down. “Nope.” If you ask me are you experiencing sensations??? William James. “A hallucination is a strictly sensational form of consciousness,” think about it, he said it, you know, he’s famous in the field of psychology. If you said, sensations, I might have opened up. You understand? That’s where I don’t understand the lack of a bridge — learn what hallucinations are. Care. Are you feeling sensations? Maybe…
They left me alone, I must say. They didn’t try and give me drugs. They only wondered if I needed help sleeping. No. And to my friends, my circle, don’t even TRY to come up to me and give me some talk about “thinking I only went through a mental health event,” like “sorry.” There is no care in this arena. It’s a touch ridiculous. And in looking at the priest walking around on the floor, uh huh, go talk to Lisa Rios who speaks of saints, etc., I can understand why some people would be confused.
Finally, I had to zip up energetic boundarires, yeah, man, everyone here knows energy is real. I had to zip this up with Lisa Rios. I was going through a lot, so I was in a state, yes, and she was sedated. I picked up on her saints, this business. I had to do something with this imagery, too, which was annoying, so it was like, okay, here’s a story idea: Uriel comes down to earth played by Nick Cage, and he has a life. I laughed. Wow, she had a lot of saints in her head, as she spoke of that a lot, and I found in it my headspace… and I saw my own friend, in all that, calling himself my manager, actor, who started acting strangely, back there, you know, the closest one to you. But in my case, there was no reason, literally, I was not even close to “making it” as something I am not, like, I am not an actor, so I do not need a manager.
And the next day, first thing that morning, she’s talking about saints, again, popes, and I just went — okay, stop, I laid it down. I said it clearly— there’s a division between you and me, no, not doing it. “Let me tell you what I know. You keep talking about the popes, well, let tell you who I know, Mario Talarico, THE man who made A pope’s umbrella, not the other way around…A man who made THE Pope’s umbrella, THE man who made A Pope’s umbrella, so you may believe in what you believe, and I may believe in what I believe…” and I told her, no more, no more talk of the saints, and I walked out. No no, no more talk of saints. It’s over. Christian imagery is not in my field of imagery, so her obsession with these ideas, came into my headspace, a moment, and it was dizzying. The Christians? To me? As my father was a devout Catholic? My response to that imagery, religion is — maybe in a few generations…from me to you, in a few generations, I might work you back into my, uh, collection of ideas — but until then, you’re penalized. My issues — issue — with the Catholic Church: EPIC. This, right here, the Catholic Church, is where I spent my Sundays contemplating child abuse, sexual, truly, as my mother appeared to come from a dark world. I had to conclude at four, did she come from the darkest corner in the universe? Was she a liar? Some bright liar? What was I looking at?
I picked up on her delire there, and I ended it. I didn’t need this battle, no offense. Keep it to yourself. Your talk of saints, I wondered, in her case, but her obsession was a bit too real.
Now — back to cleaning day — Barbara Harris and I are walking down my hallway to tackle the bathrooms, and then, I’m going to get to the stains on these doors. I’m joking, but the thought of having an actress with me through this made me laugh. Let her recite a monologue, I thought, just to give me the fuel to get through this shower. I know what an actress is, you see, you see clearly. She can haunt you, and it’s funny because it’s true, isn’t it? I feel like actresses in particular have that mystique around them. Like, they can haunt you, if they want to, especially if you have any personal information about them at all, and that made me laugh. Barbara Harris haunting me made me laugh, as an idea, the original member of The Second City. I spent a few days with her before she died, and she was so hilarious, and also, a special psychological case, as she had some mental illness that was actually genius. One of the greatest actresses ever. I had fun, because in the middle of this journey I was on, in the hospital, suddenly— Barbara Harris appeared. She, in a stretchy stream, was jumping off columns falling and flying across the wreckage… to get me through this too, but that was it, it was a short moment, but you know, I hoped that the work I was working on would become a fully realized idea, and I so loved our meeting, and everything that came out of it, so I thought, in the middle of all that, Barbara Harris, she was a really good idea.
So, look, my mind was blown and I could feel that, and I was able to recover 100% — that’s the goal. 200% — if you think about the field of medicine, medicine believes that you can heal from anything, technically, we might not know the way yet, but indeed it’s possible. That’s the type of thinking I’d like to see here. Now my friends, for instance, are not equipped to deal with an emergency, they can be humble about it, because they might think they are equipped, but they might not be, so that’s a point to consider on their ends, they’re not necessarily going to be able to deal with that.
What are you going to do?
I get that everyone in the hospital is overworked, underpaid, frustrated, etc., it’s not that people don’t care, I got that. But this arena of health care needs serious reform. I understand that you might need to medicate, but I didn’t hear a peep, no real assessment, and there’s so much fear in this domain, so you could have back up, as there are a lot of cops around, when they come in and interact at all, which is more to administer drugs to sedate Lisa Rios, or when they took Nicole out of her shower? These details, I don’t know, or even how they showed up at my door. I was living in the Lower Fifth, at Washington Square Park. You could try care, that would be my suggestion. Acting like, this is shameful, I do not know why, but by nature of the states people can be in, it’s like they’re almost treated like they know what they’re doing, so I had to go through some of that as well, and NO, pretending like NOTHING HAPPENED or PRETENDING LIKE YOU KNOW WHAT I JUST WENT THROUGH DOES NOT HELP. You see, me? Coming from the background I did? I’m not acting that way. I was in a sex scandal, you see, when I was four. That’s why I was there. So don’t give me some arrogant speech since I had to deal with “mental health experts,” I assure you, who were not. Now I’ve read about people’s psychoses, and I’m not hearing anything about the body, (I haven’t read everything), and I don’t know what to say because I went through a whole bodily event. SURE, the mind is there, most certainly. There is a psycho-spiritual dimension of the self, okay? That’s all I have to say. I don’t hear people talking about sensations in their…you know what. The body part. Um, anyone? And my friend, this bitch, I don’t even care, said, “well you’re not even sure.”
YEAH, Barbara Harris up to bat.
Because of that.
I can’t be sure because I can’t get clear information yet because I need to get on my feet, and then call the specialist back. I do not know the BODY of any of this. My stupid friend knocking me down??? On top of it???
Cleaning Day —
I’ll tell you about the Ukranian refugee I spoke to, the Russians asked me to, which says a lot, who experienced a hallucinatory event on the run from war the first time Putin invaded the country. He had just arrived in Paris. They asked me to speak to him. There were obvious connections, I think, between this hallucination and what he went through. He might not have been able to make connections, as he “saw the devil,” and I hate that guy, I said, didn’t miss a beat, and I caught him, his eyes bulging out of their sockets, shocked, you see, still shocked. He wasn’t moving, he was wide-eyed for a moment, though he might not have known it. He just stared into my eyes, blinking. I held his gaze. He didn’t know if he should laugh, his lips just cracking, the faintest hint of a smile. I held his gaze, held his gaze, for a while, and I breathed. There was nothing problematic about tension, silence, nothing, and when he started to relax, he did, and he held onto my gaze as his eyes shifted, he drifted back to homebase — the fire pit, so I let him go there…
“So you have experience with this?” He didn’t really know what to say…
People freak out over “the devil,” it’s really true. And I feel like turning to the audience, you, do you believe in the devil? Does he literally exist to you? Are you worried what’s going to happen if I disrespect him? What about God? Enough, I hate this symbol! Drives me crazy. The devil, I told him, is a broken record. Always the same stories with this guy, I was so annoyed. I had two dreams with this form, or symbol, and it’s always the same routine with this guy, so I asked him if he wanted me to tell him about these dreams. He did. Okay, I said. “I do not see a clear figure, I see a vague apparition on a dark road, and he’s always saying, “join me, something like this,” and that’s an easy answer—”no, thanks.” Then he lifts me very high into th air,” and he nodded, “uh huh,” and “he slams me back to the ground…” and then, he asked, “and then what?” I said, “I just got up again, yeah,” I reassured him, “he cannot harm you, not really, no,” he said, really, “nope, I said, no…”
“Let me guess,” I said, “there were temptations?” He gasped, “how do you know this?” I said “the Bible,” it’s interesting about that figure, he exists in a way, but— he’s a broken record. He’s not that scary… same story over and over again. “Money, power, kingdom…”
But men with guns — your brothers having been killed — yeah. That sounds terrifying. We might not have been able to go there, obviously. The devil is a symbol or form, since symbolism makes people nervous, and I understand, I don’t like symbolism. As a form, he holds meaning. I do think there is a collective, for sure, and this man went through a large dimension of experience: war. He ended up on my shores…. I went with him to the temptations, “what did he say?” I was curious, “how did he appear to you?” He had to —blinking at me — think, you see, his eyes searching. “What do you mean?” “Well, was he grainy? Was he vaguely there, did you see him in your imagination? On a screen in front of you? What was the quality of the image…?”
He was — right in front of him, flesh and blood, and I thought, “was he a homeless man?”
“What?”
“Was he real? Meaning, did you notice if people responded to you? Did they see him?” This tattered man. He was standing in a train station, this refugee, having just gotten off a train… on the run…. and this was his cross across the station to arrive to a brand new world. Did he bump into the wrong person? In other words. He had to take that in, his eyes on the fire. He blinked a lot. “Take your time,” I said. “No right or wrong, it’s just to assess what happened…”
Unclear. Maybe it could appear that way, he wasn’t sure, no problem, but he did “things” in reality that didn’t make sense. Good, I said, and he was confused. “So you saw something that didn’t make sense, in reality?” He said, “yes.” “And you wanted to understand what happened?” He nodded. “That’s a positive sign,” I said. He sort of cracked, laughed. Good. I told him he didn’t look crazy to me, he looked like he SAW something that made him doubt his sanity, but with an experience like war, couldn’t that push the limits?
When he took me through the temptations, I was reminded of Tim O’Brien’s description of war, of being so complex: love, desire, hatred…he listed all these adjectives. He was twisted in this temptations section. He got sucked in. He wanted the money, couldn’t change where he was, guilt, desire, a bodily event. He made a phone ring, “sure,” coincidence, one of these moments that feels synchoronized, as he was actually in a space, so he’s going through this station with this apparition, and he began to freak out. He tried to break away from this devil, and his “powers” amplified. I just have my eyes on the exit, the train station door, because, in my opinion, we’ll come back, but we just need to get through it, and this devil put on a show of his “powers,” pinning people at the station down to the point of convulsing, death, he described their states— it was tense, intense, and it got more frenetic and gory the closer we got to the door. Heartbreaking, sure, but he didn’t need that projected onto him on top of everything else, in my opinion. He needed a neutral container. Someone who could just hold a space. He didn’t want — at me — he pleaded, “people to die! Please,” he begged him to stop, but he went through a large experience, so we went through this battlefield, and we got through the door… “and then what?”
There does seem to be a collective. If you want mystery, other realms in there, cool. I don’t care. This is not my arena. But people tended to trust me with psychology, stuff like this would naturally happen to me… like being asked to lead a Ukrainian refugee out of a large psychological — physical — event: war. Now, here, I said I cannot relate to you, right? I have never been through this experience, so I will not pretend, I will not invent, but I can imagine, sure, that it would take time to process. He was on the run, shock and terror were in his eyes. Once we were out, we returned to the temptations, mostly, we kept circling back around, he didn’t know what to do with his weakness, his guilt, with his feelings during this chapter of his experience with the devil.
I went through a lot in my stomach, just to say. Also down there, yes. But it was a lie, right? I thought about the refugee, I did, wondering if I would have approached that differently, now. But people have gone through enormous experiences of loss, abuse, so that assisted me through this event I was now going through. Again, I just need to keep talking to this sexual trauma specialist, to other psychologists, to understand the body of coming to understand you might have been abused, or something? The body doesn’t exist in this sector, and what sense does that make? Tinkerbelle is fine, relax, just keep clapping and believing in me, for Gods sakes, like I dealt with way too much disbelief. The fairytale has truth in it. So I’m talking to a specialist in this arena, which was startling, truly. Yup, could have happened to you, just to skip ahead, he said, based on what I described. He also works with psychedelics, as I couldn’t understand if they might have had an adverse effect on me, in some capacity?
I told him, I started seeing blue pills, like so many blue pills in my home, “like why am I seeing blue pills?” Did Dr. J drug me? I learned details out of order, so at my mother’s office, Cerberus told me that when he came into her life, that she was so drugged out of her mind that she couldn’t even say her name. And that was the first time I heard about the drugs, but the alcohol was slapped in my face even if the alcoholic can be sneaky, so I didn’t know what this randomly specific image was, of blue pills? “So why… am I seeing blue pills?” I’m going through an experience, “uhhhhh?????” Was that my environment? I mean, does any of this apply? And the sexual trauma specialist isn’t shutting me down, he’s just giving me the space.
Here’s a tip to the gurus and assholes I came to into contact with after the hospital like the slytherin, yes, from Harry Potter, who farted on the phone at me long and hard after I got out of the hospital? He would be classed, if you would, this man, this real man, into that house. It’s a joke. I call him the slytherin. I know good slytherins, and they happen to be female, if you must know.
WHY would you tell someone who just came out of the hospital that “this is about betrayal?” WHY, please tell me why did THESE MEN say that??? Does that sound calming? Reassuring? Assholes. Why are you saying that? Manipulators. These two—in my real life. I’m telling you. They acted like they knew what that was when they weren’t even there? This drove me crazy. And no, it’s not okay. “This is about betrayal??????”
Does that sound SOOTHING? idiots.
Who is betraying me?
Imagine, my friends hearing that? “Who’s betraying her?”
Do they mean that this is about my real past? Like, the sex scandal I was in? My parents?
Betrayal. You can just say, this is about your parents? I was so confused. Where YOU betraying me? Why are you talking about betrayal? And these were two men not at all involved, I spoke to them on the phone after I got out of the hospital, two very strange men in my life.
BOOM — the actress: send her in, goddammit, Barbara Harris. Just handle it. I needed a goddamn actress. I’m picturing someone else, though, not Harris, only because Harris isn’t alive, you know? I needed a fucking blade. Just rip them to shreds, just do it, do what you do, “actress,” a blade. Send in an actress. No way. I see her behind me, “just obliterate them.”
“Betrayal?”
Get angry, actress.
That’s the least reassuring response I’ve ever heard. If someone gets out of a hospital, don’t tell them that “this,” meaning, the reason why your friends called in whatever back up they could… was about betrayal….?
If you can imagine? Was this true about my father? Did he harm me in this way? Now, the sexual trauma specialist, he doesn’t know WHERE this happened, he said, he couldn’t confirm that, but, by what I said, what I described, “yes, people have described…something along those lines…” That’s what I struggled with, as my mother supposedly lied about my father being a sexual threat to me… that’s how the story back then panned out, but I was four at the time, just please, please, listen to the soundtrack I put on top of this page, because I had to laugh, are you joking? I thought, “do do do, I’ll just write a book about those years, to go —WHOA!”
And on top of that, maybe someone did send me some stupid threat through my website at 5 AM? Someone I knew? Was it the slytherin? I was terrified it was, anyway, I’ll leave this message for another day. At the END though, after this mysterious message came through my website at 5 AM about my bank being shut down after asking for my money back from these people….??? He farted long and hard on the phone, after I got out of the hospital, “you’re a really good friend,” and then, he seriously farted. So I got the message, regardless.
That message actually impacted me, in the stomach, truly. I felt two stone blocks — one moved, what? What’s that, and it hit another. I was under a lot of tension, at this time, as I had been going through some mysterious experiences around my childhood… I was writing about it at the time, even, you see, as writing this story took me down a track that… I was not expecting… and please, in the words of the sexual trauma expert taking notes: “do not tell this person that she went down the wrong track, or something, because you cannot handle the story…”
I’ll keep talking about my experience since it was “other,” but then, I’m not sure. This sexual trauma specialist I ended up talking to, “maybe you were…” I do not know the body of this. If I was four? Um? Excuse me? I mean, can you imagine? There’s something called being devastated. And in some cases, you might be devastated, and I don’t think trying to reframe or correct that makes sense, because it makes sense that someone would be devastated. They need time. Just hold a space. Would anyone want to have to — look at their parents, with that question? Barbara Harris handing me a goddamn mop, because in my mind, she really can… so I keep letting myself just free write for a moment and clean because that was — an epic action flick right there in a tiny bathroom with special guest Barbara Harris being amazing even just in my own mind. Superhero.
Just the way she appeared in my mind— my whole world crumbling — and there she was — jumping down columns falling — flying through a falling city — no problem.
Call it a bit of a joke, about Barbara Harris— as I was affected by all that psychic stuff, okay? I got involved with people who believed I was psychic, okay? A bit too much for me. so go believe what you want, I’m fine with it, but I can’t stomach it. It’s just not my comfort zone, and there’s no reason for me to wrestle with something else I can’t place in the world. I’m a concrete person. I like only this plane of existence. I have every right to say that. Choice. Again, I keep breathing and grounding and finding gratitude because I did get through that, and maybe I was, you know, it hurts me to say it. Maybe I was abused…
So here’s where it got hard and problematic. Dr. J, my mother, she was the biggest liar, right? That was the story, that’s what Angelica said, that’s why she DECIDED — my major realization — that it wasn’t true, you see, about my father. Because my mother was a goddamn tornado. My mother told Angelica, some stranger, that my father was abusive towards me, and then, she protected me for four years, that didn’t go well, and she DECIDED it wasn’t true based on total lunatics.
“Shit,” an experienced investigator is going to go, “oh no, this one is the worst, because people don’t understand. They act like they do.” I got that, and I also, myself, fell for it. So I was reading about another sex scandal in the book, The Fact of the Body, which weaves the author’s experience as a child, even at THREE years old, of having been abused by her grandfather, even raped, yes. Okay? She becomes a lawyer, and she covers a case about a famous pedophile, since we called this Frenchman surgeon a “prodigal pedophile?”
Okay, time to release Dr. J — go go go — go skip around Dr. J, go skip to your limo, seriously. Wave hello with your wrist like a flimsy hanky. Hello, cry a little. Really get into it. This woman. My mother. She’s a buffoon, a real buffon in the flesh, truly, and I sort of saw her as this Joker card to throw out there into the world — okay? If anyone needs a firm talking to. If I need to mock you, truly — time to send Dr. J in. This is what she’s doing, currently: pouring tea into a cup from one of her shiny tea cup sets. She arranged tea cup sets, collectibles, on their own pedestals that trailed through her office of taxes, and she was “the queen of taxes” Dr. J, a mad hatter, in a red wig… skin as white as snow, no, whiter than snow, she glowed, Angelica Leibowitz said, and eyes as blue as the sky…an omen… from up above… her name was Joy.
His name is Ricky Langley, the case that this lawyer worked on in the book I was reading. He was twenty-six. The boy, Jeremy, was six. The boy went over to his house, as he played there, so he knew this criminal, a health care criminal, and he was tortured, so he didn’t molest the boy, he killed him, though they found semen on his shirt, and no one knew WHOSE semen it was. Just stop. Look, Obama knows this story, okay? Basically, when this man got on the stand, once he was caught, he told 16 versions of this story. No one knew what was going on… he told even more sordid details about what he did to the child that weren’t even true, it was pure sickness. So people acted like because she was a liar, that it MEANT she lied about him, about the sexual crap. I was a sweet little investigator, at nine years old, okay, so these people in my life are going off the story of a FOUR, NINE year old. I was not a professional, if you would. And even Langley baffled everyone, confused everyone, because he went mad. So, Dr. J being a liar, “who cares? Of course she is.”
I learned something too, you see? That people can tell a mix of the two, lie and truth, I mean, my mother ran into church every Sunday, people, and accosted the priest with her rapes — thinking about the Obamas in this situation. Even Dave Chappelle, yes the real one. “Excuse me?? What the hell are you doing??? Accosting priests with rapes????” That’s the appropriate response. But people can’t do that, you see, and it’s SCARY to see what people can’t respond to, sometimes, isn’t it? Looking at Alice Munro. Absurd. She can’t deal with her child’s molesatation in real life, but she does it on the page.
So — it’s totally possible that it could be true, for the love of God, and I’m taking all THAT BIT by BIT, it’s all I can do. I’m happy to be here. That’s the basic hello. I’m okay, I’m here, I’m doing very well, I might feel different as a person. I feel like I’m still healing, too, but that’s going well, and that’s great. There’s nothing more to say. I can’t always deal with the idea that maybe it was true about my father, but to be frank, I could have happened been abused in a number of places throughout my adolescence.
Again, the specialist doesn’t know WHERE, he can’t know WHERE, but it might have happened, yes. So I’m laughing because I can picture Dave Chappelle —”can someone just believe her please? I mean this bitch went through enough no? Jesus, damn, people, her name is Dr. J…” Dave Chappelle would have noted that for sure, I’m pretty sure, “her name is Dr. J?” I needed this person. In this case, it’s funny that I had this experience because he made fun of people’s NEED for celebrities. “Where’s JAH?” In this case, “where’s DAVE CHAPPELLE? Please! Tell him her name is Dr. J…?” as I fly back through interspace. “Please!” And truly, I was on the floor of a hospital, and suddenly, I heard his voice. It broke through the bullshit, my small life, a true giant of comedy. “Her name is Dr. J?” He’s buttering his toast with truffle butter, what? Did someone say that?” I’ve watched a lot of his comedy, and I thought, oh my God… her name is Dr. J? I never fully took that in, and it was a revelation. Oh my God, her name is Dr. J, and I thought, maybe I could do something with that, so NOW I’m going to open mics, because I ended up seeing a place where I might be able to put my family story.
So, here, I’ll mention a reframe to bring psychic balance. People go through states, sure, and there’s a conclusion, which helps. I was going through so much sensations in that area of my body, and why? Why? I thought, was it true? Are you joking? I couldn’t even, and I basically heard her name for the first time, thanks to the comedy I watched, and I thought, uh oh, I might give up… and I saw a Joker, and I sort of went — oh my God, she was a Joker, Dr. J, a total Joker. A villain. I was at one of these darkest dark points, and that came into my head as a beacon of light — I made peace with the villain. Typically, the villain has a lesson attached, there’s a lot of good a villain can do, and I realized that, and I’m glad I did, so I thought, oh, maybe I’ll come up with one really really wicked villain, a female villain, even better — boom. Actress up to the plate. Boom. Home run. I thought, okay, I can’t even stomach this right now, but I don’t have to, I can take it step by step because I don’t even know how to write anything right now. You know? No worries. That’s a distant star, but that would be cool. Every day that becomes less triggering, not overwhelming, and potentially really fun. People love a good villain. I just found the good in it. I went through so much, so the arena of film was even a saving grace, because no matter WHAT my head spun up, just because I went through so much sensationally, there’s a goddamn movie about it. I can, you know, “write the movie,” as my friend said. It’s not that big of a deal. All sorts of ideas come to mind. Crazy ideas. I don’t know what to say about the crossover. Sometimes, I think Langley had a problematic birth, like he might have had a mental health issue like in the brain-body, whatever, I just don’t know what that means. Is there some medication, even, do you understand what I mean? Just because this feels like a medical issue. Please, please, please.
This woman, Angelica Leibowitz? A hilariously close… name…to her real name. She didn’t even know how my mother handled me, okay? I was ten? At the time. Huh, looking at this, hazy. “What do you mean?” I couldn’t capture that, would you have been able to? Really? Think about it. Something about whipping out her breast…? In front of her?? Giving it to me…? Excuse me??? And this man, this not a therapist I spoke to, he said, well there were no reliable narrators here. This bitch’s fist in your face, from Brazil, she, a mother of six, was disturbed with what she saw, you see? And I’m like — whaaaaaaa??? Just please. It’s called a sex scandal, people. If someone can hear me out. This lady, random lady, imagine a lawyer breaking it down to you, your mother, she makes a stop — do do do do, it’s your cute quirky mom —she suddenly enters some Alice in Wonderland universe, with tea cups on pedestals, some tax law office, and she gets the Mom alarm, like what’s wrong with that baby? She ends up bringing this child home, and suddenly, she’s getting cash thrown in her face with “fun” child molestation games… my mother is just — whoopie doo, here comes the View — tossing info like that out, no biggie, please help, with cash, and the situation escalates from there… and it does not get better, it gets worse, I got the picture now. Loud and clear. This was a nightmare. A lawyer would laugh with me all the way through, “and then,” I can picture telling Ron, “and then, this is what these idiots did…” laughing, smiling, because what the hell are you supposed to do with that? He’s a lawyer.
Now this woman, author, Alexandria Marzano-Lesnevich, The Fact of a Body, she remembers most of it, not the…uh, rape, but she remembers her sexual abuses by her grandfather, but the specialist said I might not. I came to learn that people might block this out for decades? If I came to learn that, I don’t even know what to say, I don’t know how I would have responded if I learned at four? Ugh, I’d be needing someone to hug — quick. Jesus. But apparently, I might not have understood what was going on. I have one memory. I suppose I have another, but I don’t remember past a certain point, and I can’t even go there, it’s a no.
I remember flipping out on these lunatics, FLIPPING OUT, I wanted my own bed, I didn’t want to sleep with these people. Why was that a problem? I do not know. I remember that. Finally, the bed arrived. And Dr. J was dying in it!
I was four, up against the door, in the dark, like what? My mother already taught me that this could happen to me, whatever this was, you see, rape, abuse, as I had to conclude she had been raped, you see. I’m four, coming to these conclusions. And he’s slipping into thte master bed? We all slept in the same room, this freakshow, and she’s in my bed — dying in it? — literally — and he’s slipping into the master bed? No one is talking to me. No one is saying “time to go to bed…” I’m up against a door. I’m four, you guys. I do not know what this is. Now, eventually, what am I going to do? I got into this bed, and like, cringed, oh my Godddddd. I didn’t think anything happened, I just woke up… so, I thought I skated an edge, you see, if that’s make sense, and I was so scared that an innocent man would be wrongfully accused, it’s just, eeeeeekkk, that doesn’t look too good. When you start waking up to memories such as these, meaning, you had them, you just didn’t realize you had them, there’s a difference, and then, you’re in a sex scandal, you don’t know what to do.
The sexual trauma specialist, he’s like, uh huh, taking notes.
And then, later, as I woke up through the whole thing, you guys, as I was FOUR at the time, I was home, what? What? I was seven, then, as this sex scandal lasted four years. I was under the piano with my giant panda bear, and I realized, wait? I’m at a party? I stood up, in the middle of some Christmas party? That Dr. J threw for her clients? I hadn’t seen my parents all evening. Not once. I realized at seven, that I was there, in my house, that I don’t live in anymore. Where are my parents? Right? Did Angelica drop me off? I looked at the door. I didn’t have to think about where Dr. J was — I figured my father was downstairs in the garage? So I didn’t check. I walked through the party out of time, I mean, I clocked the videographer with the Bodyguard light… I had watched that with Angelica, of course, major love song movie. I crept up the darkened steps, because, you threw a party to die? I stood there, in the bedroom, and there she was on my bed, not my bed, and she was dying…gasping her last breath. I don’t remember anything else. I never understood why she was dying, but she died enough times for me to not even have to think about where she was, you see, “holy shit,” looking up, “no way,” at this party? “You’re dying?” There seemed to be a running theme in her family, of dying. So I don’t know what to say about that.
I didn’t see my father all evening, not once. I didn’t even think of going to get him, I didn’t sleep here, as far as I knew, but you see, I started coming to understand that I was home a couple of times? Areas of this story got cloudy… I don’t know if I made up that he put a chocolate bar in my lunchbox from the health food store, my father, in 2nd grade, but technically, I do not live at home anymore, so I’m confused. Where am I? What is this chocolate bar? Did I got home again? I was at a school that I attended with this woman’s youngest daugher to FACILITATE this arrangement — sex scandal. My mother paid for BOTH our tuitions, nice fancy prep school.
I called this woman back, Angelica, all these years later, I’m still so angry that she acted like she did, but I’m supposed to understand that it’s a hard subject. Her resentment towards me is stupid. “We had fun,” sure. I have questions around these spots, but I’m too freaked out by people at this point, so I’m waiting until I’m a bit more stable, like when I have a book deal, like I’m all good there, to knock knock again. She’s definitely not changing her story on me, right??? The BH tennis club were extremely memorable years. I remember that accurately, like Cher would say, heh heh, at the intellectual college girl. We talked about that a lot, as I investigated it at the Beverly Hills Tennis Club, sort of amazingly, Johnny Carson and Charlie Chaplin both former members. Right? There was comedy in it, in this premise, that’s for certain, with my stupid sneakers dangling. “Huh,” scratching my chin. “She slept with everyone right?” These conversations. “EVERYBODY,” and her face is amazing, Angelica Leibowitz, her eyes are WIDE, she can’t even believe it, Maria, she couldn’t even believe it. I pray every day, right, like, please, okay, maybe I was raped, somewhere, but please don’t tell me my father did…
“Four years?”
Flashing four years? In my face. She FLASHED FOUR, counted every year on every finger. This woman was MEMORABLE, very. I lived with you for four years??? I asked her that over and over again.
Snapping my face, like that. “And I started living with you just like that…?” I asked, at nine, after all this.
She snapped her fingers in my face.
You see???? I know what her story was.
I’m Dr. J’s daughter. So when it comes to people, you see, when it comes to crazy shit — I’m not taking any prisoners. I know exactly what she said. An ACTRESS — boom. I needed an actress, ridiculous.
So, I’m giving this reunion a second, because, imagine? In the end, it’s true, bitch? Bitch is back, Barbara Harris taking a seat there, a fluid extraordinaire. There’s no reason for her to lie, but that was too true, too true, my whole life, so there’s no way in hell I’m taking a .00001 percent chance. What about that ridiculous Christmas party??? Was I strange afterwards? I had no advocate. Literally!!!
What truth would Dr. J tell? The woman knows no lies, she doesn’t lie, never told a lie ever in her life, not once. Come on. That’s her attitude, badly. Sure, he did, sure, he didn’t, we might be around the map, LADY. Looking for sex downtown… really? That’s what my father wrote in his divorce file. Like, picture a judge or lawyer with this document. His divorce file. That, he came home from a work trip and found out that I was living with another family… but we were picking her up at the police station at the time, frequently, for drinking, driving and looking for sex downtown… UM, why did you leave her alone with her?
I think, more so than anything else, I was upset that HE didn’t come up to public scrunity — “what were you doing?” Because what would have happened? If you ever have characters in your head, like you write, or you recall a situation, something, you see, in my mind, I have no idea who this is… there’s nothing…is he dissintegrating? You see? Who was this person? My father? He started calling her house? Acting nice…? Showing up at her doorstep and watching a spectacle of girls playing? And then, he gets the door slammed in his face. Um…? Um…? What do I do with that? So yeah, if that were true, that would have blown my mind. It blew my mind. I can’t put it better. If it’s not true, okay, I don’t know what to say, as I keep saying that because I don’t know the body of waking up to something like this… and everyone acted as if… being on the floor of a hospital or going through something down there… could be invented? Can someone please explain?
Again, if you have the right attitude about it, there are large stories that people can come from and they can assume it. It was an impactful story, and therefore perhaps I can put that into the world and stand in it, and smile and say, I’m a success. I am a success story. That road to get here, was, in my case, really really not smooth, I mean the aftermath, because everyone was attached to some old story… and because mental health sucks… I dealt with states, dreams, hours of walking, and panics. I couldn’t eat, really. I was abroad, traveling, not exactly the best move for someone who just got out of the hospital, which is where the unreality of mental health events gets cruel. Wake up. I went through a real thing— that goes to the people who were around me. Insane. I could do nothing but walk a particular line… as no one saw me, believed me, gave a shit, no offense, which was — I don’t know, but there seems to be healing if I go in this direction here… and I just kept going, admitting things to myself that were hard, not knowing, just walking the steps, and reaching for a world that might want me in it. I felt better and better, and finally, after about four years of agony, truly, I saw an article in Goop about sexual abuse, like, okay, there’s nothing wrong with just looking it up. I took that in, it was relieving, and then, I eventually got to a specialist. After our first conversation, I was relieved, broken, and I cried, I really did, for other people out there. To this man, the specialist, he asked me, when I asked him, “are you seriously asking me if this could have really happened?” He reflected that back to me. “Yes, you were already in this situation…” sorry to break it to you, you know? He said, in my opinion?
He’d never heard of “putting on a show for the child molester, rapist,” whatever.
“Your mother was so unhinged sexually, who knows where this could have happened. I mean, she could have taken you on a spin downtown…” do you know what I mean? To him, and this took my breath away, “we have to remember there are the years before four,” he said, “there is zero to four,” and I was like, “excuse me?” “In this case the possiblities are large…” he even opened up his hands, wide. But because it was so crazy, it couldn’t really be crazy, you see what I mean? That’s how my friends acted. “Uh huh…” I couldn’t even believe it, I cried, do people get harmed before they even reach an age? I couldn’t. And here were “murmurs” in the background of my life, and I will unleash the actress — strike fear into their hearts, please— my circle. Blow them away. You’re dead, eliminated. I had to laugh, of course I did. I had to relieve myself, so picturing some actress — just dealing with it, enough, that helped. “These people…”
Hopefully my ideas are actually funny.
I was like, okay, if I’m going to deal with this, I’m going to need an actress. Just go, be a blade and slice these people to bits with words — to the doubt, or just the responses I received. I couldn’t believe it, that some people might not even know… if they’ve been abused… I was truly blown away. I feel real, I feel real around that story, and I got here, so that might have been horrible, I mean, truly, but I took an active approach to recovery, so I just got through it, over it, whatever phase I was in. So, I know there’s no reason to panic, for example, so I would talk myself down, I would use tools, and I would sometimes walk for hours, just being physical, getting it out. No reason to panic. Eating was a whole ordeal. I’d get hungry or digest, I had trouble with that area of my body. I could start to panic. It’s basically done.
Now the 5 AM message, it kicked me over an edge, as it came through when I was coming to wake up to this story on the page. This strange message that came through my website, the first time that ever happened, after I discussed getting my money back from these couple of people I just talked to about that. At 5 AM. It was an empty threat, sure, okay? Until I admitted to myself that the 5 AM message, which I’ll leave aside a moment, felt intented for me, I couldn’t eat, so once I did that, not knowing what that meant, I felt some relief. That helped, strangely, if not humorously. It slammed into me, let’s say, as I was beginning to deal with my past, as writing was the catalyst for this journey. It happened over time, by the way…
Hades was — cool. The Neapolitans are still waiting in my mind, they just popped up. Back to them— woooooo, they’re cheering, singing, dancing, eating, lol. “Ohhhhh shiitttt,” they’re watchhng me on the BIG SCREEN like a football game, “ohhhh shiiittttt….” So I’ll just share the end.
I inserted a couple of symbols, consciously, into this experience just to see what it would do, right?
And the Neapolitans are telling me to go on, go on, “Dante!!!”
I thought, if I was in this, whatever it was, I am going to try something, and I tried something mythological. But, you know how some people think about their mother and it calms them down, okay, that wasn’t the case for me — my version of that is Hades. Of course, they’d be affected, my cousins in Naples, but there’s truth in their bombastic, ancient, revelry —”oh shit, she’s Dante. Maria’s Dante!!!” Kicking their feet, we’re singing all night long. This is how the Neapolitans are, these are…my cousins. “You’re Dante…” that’s all they knew when they heard the mess of a version of it, in broken Italian, too, as I ended up developing a maladaptive pattern, it was a whole journey to get here. I have other posts about it.
Hades is the psychological God, the underworld is… that, just to let you know…that’s what that refers to, though it’s literal, too, so he’s my mythology. In Naples, you see, the entrance to the underworld is “just over there…” that’s it, no one is concerned about whether it’s factually true, “it’s just down there….” it’s a ridiculous question to them. “The entrance to the underworld is over there.” Is it real? Really the entrance? “Yes, it’s just down there.” In any case, I put him in. It was also because he didn’t move, as I went through a whole event, but he didn’t move, so he was just an anchor, or just over there. It’s not that big of a deal. I’m not worried about it. It’s just over there. It’s just this character, the inclusion of a mythological strand, if you would, like “get me out,” that’s a cool story. It just turned out, that something rather remarkable happened. Hades worked.
A year later, it was the brink of spring. I was on the Sorrento Coast at my cousin’s house in a natural reserve, so we were tucked in the cliffs, they’re gardners, farmers, so they live in a paradise, a little paradise, and I was leaving Naples to go to Morocco… I was still recovering, traveling like this (?), but I had recovered enough, so I was out of hell, but I was still recovering. And when I was leaving their house, I walked out the door to yellow daffodills in bloom, all over the garden with friendly faces, yellow. As I was closing the door, Hades reappeared, and he said, “gently,” as I heard it shut behind me gently. I swear. I gasped, really, no way. Do you remember Dave Chappelle going, “oh my god, you were in my balls (his kids) and now you’re making me CANDY NECKLACES?” It’s the same thing. Wow, it worked, not wow he’s real, no. He’s just a character. With mythology there’s always a lesson, and I got it. “Gently,” and I needed that thought, I really did, because that was so hard, and “no,” by his posture, let’s say, “no, I wasn’t expecting that.” So I took a moment and thought about it. Took a breath.
We had done the majestic exit, if you would, as we did, we did do a truly majestic exit in the hospital — because I had had the thought, um, Hades, that’s who I need. In my mythological reality, I know, but I was needing somewhere to put all this, I was in hell, right? That’s where I was, and that’s his domain. So, sure, the labor is in the return, and — NAPLES IS POINTING AT ME — perhaps HE — “oh shitttttttt,” Naples flipping out, totally flipping out, she did it!!!! Dante!!!! — would be necessary for such a journey. I thought, I’ll try it. (Applause, for sure, maybe a bit gentler, we’ll see. I’m making fun of them, too.) What happened was truly remarkable.
I just started thinking about something else, if that makes sense. I was thinking about the story, going through it in a particular way, and we met up, if you would, at my mother’s office in Beverly Hills. Just because my life was so complicated, my understanding of this story was truly all wrong, mixed up. Dr. J worked above a luxury car dealership in LA, only the most expensive sportscars, only. You know that place, the glass facade on the corner. Mythic spot. And, I remembered, I didn’t know why, but what a confusing understanding of things I had, the time my ex-brother and I confronted her at her office…but we would have to get through her business manager, Ghomi. He saved her, randomly, after these years… got her, uh, tax business up on its feet again. I always called him Cerberus, since he “guarded” Dr. J. After a close call with him, my brother and I went into the elevator, and I believe I even told him as he came right up to the door. “I call you Cerberus.”
“Yeah true,” Ael, Archangel of the Wood said, as in Inglewood.
I am just naming him Ael in these lines not to use his real name, but give you the gist of the archetype. The elevators doors closed, and Hades — had replaced him. I gasped. “Hades…”
Naples— would be glued to the screen — quiet now.
He looked at me, like, seriously? He was like a composite character, the older brother, or he reminded me of the older brothers in each of my families, except the second, so he was a big brother with eyes like laser beams who became a father. I went, what’s this? He was a total gentleman, a statesman. Of course he would be, I thought, I never agreed with the way he was depicted. I heard with trauma, with this problem, you don’t just get the painful memories back, you get back your whole childhood, and he was one of them. “hades…” I picked out a mythology book in the fourth grade classroom, searching for ways to bring down my father’s Catholic Church—my target. And I was looking at this picture of Hades going, “no.”
That’s not who he is, I told the Neapolitans, my cousins, from Naples, Italy.
Hades spoke with a wicked accent, you know, just butchered the English language, at times. In any case, I realize that “oh my God, the cars… we’re above a luxury car dealership… perfect…they’re all his cars, just amazing, because I had the idea to meet Hades… somewhere out there… just because I was going through so much, so I have to put this somewhere. And I’m in hell… in a matter of speaking…so maybe there’s a good story, you see what I mean? Perhaps he would be necessary… for this kind of journey, and everyone thinks mythology is real, and yes, Carl Jung and Freud would be calling me right now, to meet me, you see.
And so, we get into a sportscar of his choice, and he prepared his snacks, “okay? Meri?” Red vines. And right, I gasped, because mythology is real, so his snacks! Right! I can’t eat anything here, how hilarious. He tossed me a bag of Mocerino nuts, as that’s actually a company that sells nuts, in Naples, Italy, and that’s my last name. And for sure, to Hades, in his sportscar, that was indeed nuts. And boom, out the garage, we drove over to my house, which is a straight shot 20 minutes down La Cienega, and I was going through so much, you see, sensationally, so Hades is — naming everything he sees, we knew this drive, well, this was where I was from — LA. So we passed Versailles, the Cuban restaurant, and I remembered the drive back to my house, so I was going through pain, at that time. We got to my house, did this amazing exit, the oracle of Cumas was there, too, as I decided to make Cuma a male/female character, two in one. I’m just making choices, to make points, like men can be oracles too, sure. It’s like what Campbell said, we’re writing the mythology, so it reflects a people at a given time. So, mythology evolves, and I have beliefs as to how they should — in the ancient sense. My family in Naples, they do, they truly believe I am Dante, this is who I am. So I added a mythological throughline, and that ended up being an idea that worked. “Gently,” just amazing after all that. Yes, I need to be gentler with myself… I needed gentleness.
That form just was a touchstone through that.
So I found that to be potentially an awesome story of some kind, I don’t know what that means, but a good Hades story could be so so much fun. I like characters, I like designing them, I like shaping them, so he’s one of my favorites that I came up with… who was, I laughed, the type of “guy,” who’s going to…escort you to the exit of his house, most definitely, he’s going to watch you leave his property, you see, he’s watching you leave, waving goodbye, telling you to evacuate the premises…chasing you, even, out, (a good acting opp), it’s over… get out. You see? BYE. He doesn’t want you there. It’s his house, he has shit to do. Hades.
There’s a lot to unpack there, like do you want to stay? So bye. He was amazing, I was amazed, and of course, he would be, he’s a God character, you know? You’d hope, anyway, Hades would be “cool.” I’ve gone to Cuma, sure, we in Naples just go there with our families, no worries, usually around Christmas, this is a Christmas activity for us. We go see the Oracle of Cuma, as she’s nearby in Naples, and we tell the story of The Aenied in the car, on the way over, the kids are a little annoyed with it, but the parents egg us on, tell us what happened… we pass the entrance to the underworld along the way, which always makes me laugh. The city is situated up high and overlooks a long beach, and they still work out the horses in rows along the sand in single drawn chariots… with the glittering sea behind them, it’s a hilariously ancient image. Ancient Greece still exists, here. I found a way to add that in, like he chases me down that beach, too, which I added later, because I loved the exit so much… that’s just Naples. So the Oracle of Cuma took Aenaes there, as it’s close by, not to get simple about it, but Virgil couldn’t travel too far of distances at that time, as the entrance to the underworld and the Oracle of Cuma are nearby but a bit of a journey back then, if you will. It’s a Christmas story for us, hilarious. So on the way there, this one Christmas, my cousins, they’re parents, but because my father was THEIR parents’ ages, I’m their children’s age. They asked us, “what did the oracle tell him?” Emilio looked at me with a pinch, two fingers, “eat less.” I went —ohhhhhhh!!!!!! — Oracle of Cuma said it, funny, because we eat beyond what is possible at Christmas. “Eat LESS…”
And I thought, that must be a joke, Aenaes had to have looked like shit, come on. “Eat less…”
In the end, with Hades, I flew back through space, through a vacuous black, in a tuck because “the vehicle is unnecessary,” that’s from Hades. So I’m flying back through space, and he firmly planted himself in his own time and space, let’s say, and I knew, but why? I don’t know. I couldn’t take my eyes off his eyes…this is the storytelling bit, I can’t take my eyes off his, and then, I saw this super epic wideshot of an endless black space, and he was a speck, I was a barely a dash, and a wall of cosmic clouds flew up into existence. I gasped. Oh my God! He goes, I gasped, “I am Hades,” of course I thought, “I am the gate!” No way!!! “I have seen Gods die to become ordinary men, and I have seen ordinary men die to become extraordinary men, and you…” he pointed at me, still receding in my mind, getting smaller and smaller, “are one of them…” and he closed the door to Hades to a vanishing point—the pupil of his eye…. in reverence for the mystery of man… my mouth dropped, wow. I wasn’t expecting that. That was a theme in his speech, if I were to do something with it. That would be an idea for me to tease out. He wanted to talk about the drama of man, and yeah, I might have thought about it as it evidently came from my mind, but I never thought about it consciously. These were my ideas. Yes, and don’t forget it. This is my point of view, evidently, this is my Hades character. So the drama of man, you see, I’d think about that from the perspective of a God, sure. “Meri,” as he calls me by my Neapolitan nickname. “Meri,” he sounds like a sparrow too, as they all do. I was in his pupil? Pupil of his eye. The black, the vanishing point. Wow, that blew me away, but these sorts of ideas are cosmic, big, he’s a character that exists, people play around with these like THOR — boom, Wonder Woman, Superman, same idea, someone’s going, “the orbs flew,” and “and there’s some dome over some celestial city,” like, it’s just a fantasy, you know? Some characters live in other dimensions, and I don’t need to explain this. He was a brilliant idea, really, a brilliant idea. I kept going through that exit when things got really hard, I just kept going through that exit, and once I got out of the hospital, if I was scared, I would re-run that scene with Hades, lol, you know, because, to me, “nothing’s going to happen to me, not if Hades is around…” so he was soothing. And then, it just became a cool scene in my head, because, I didn’t need to run the scene anymore. That’s it.
That was a journey that was magical, it really was, what an exit. So then, I walked onto the Seine, the afternoon I felt time bend, through the SLIT in my closed eye, as a sunbeam had hit my eye, when I was young, that time. I had a strange neurological event around the time my father got diagnosed with his dementia, which he told no one, so I was disoriented, and I looked up, I was nine, and a sun beam ricocheted off a terrace glass door on a Haussman building, and it hit my eye, and I closed it, like — why do I feel so weird? That’s the slit I walked through, and I was just going through this journey like — wow, now, this is cool, for sure, and I saw the Oracle of Cuma on that tourist boat through the fyords… “time is sensational, isn’t it,” she asked at the head, in the depths of winter. That’s my line, I wrote that in my draft, that I had a sensational experience of time that afternoon, and now she said it, and it was perfect. I wrote a story through it, so I could put the sensations somewhere, where big monologues could be recited, just an epic scale. I figure I’ll get there, because a good Dante story, through hell, might be fun. And you know, I was so rigid, actually, I couldn’t handle conceiving of big stories, big ideas, because it was too scary, given my fear of what we can…imagine…or do… but now, I’m getting there, because it’s fine, people do, and people are fine. No worries. Easy. Then, lunch, and then, have a casual chat.
It’s just how information got organized that was interesting… mythic, yes, but these are all my memories, if you know what I mean, and I make a point of it because I got involved with strange people…
So.
I met up with the Oracle of Cuma through the fyords… in Norway, on a tourist boat… in the depths of winter because I was there once, and it was the Narnia of the Gods, the Vikings, right right right, makes sense, and maybe I might be able to think about it later in terms of its mythic structure. I made the decision here to go back to the states, but I don’t know, so I don’t care that much.
“Gently…” it was such a lesson for me, and so simple. It was the closing of a door of a house… somewhere beautiful. I was so moved by that. So I just acknowledged how far I’d come, that time, at that point, and I kept going… onwards. That was the end of Hades, not really, because I can still recall him, develop the idea, it’s always there, we’re there already, that we know… thanks to Dante. Like the Neapolitans know Inferno is a real place, that’s the point, or “hell,” and it’s Dante, someone like that. But that was a door, if you would, a year later. It was still pretty dark, it was still a journey, but the return… the labour.
I just liked how Hades thought, in a hilariously broken accent, “that we would,” in the garage with sportcars, only, exclusively, “examine this.” He’s big brother energy, if you would, so he’s funny, he had to be, he was my big brother for sure, and that truly made me laugh. We were going to take a look at this “mental health care system…most certainly,” he said, “and we will be clear, very clear…” in an Italian accent, and if it’s fake, it’s better, that was just hilarious about him, him being innocent — in a way. How he said things, looking at me. It was how he said, “am I real?” Seriously? In the sportscar, preparing his snacks, “but seriously Meri, am I real?” Air conditioning vents blast cool air.
So he covered my desire for reform, for he, too, hilariously, had thoughts about all this, what was happening, so he just made me laugh, like “why would you not encourage someone to shower?” If the people cannot care for themselves…” he really didn’t understand, “Meri,” he would approach me, close, real close, “why would you not give the care, to the people, Meri, why would you not give the care to the people, here, Meri…?” And he would go away. I realized in the end, it startled me, because I had taken so many showers, that I might have been the only one, you see, oh, I gasped, realizing it, do people not shower? The morning I left, they left me a BIG towel, and Hades, popped up, “is that what they do?” How strange, he thought. I know they have suicide cases, so it’s totally shut down, but I thought, ohhh I see. They give you two dinky towels, it made showering a bit hard. I asked for new PJS. That was Hades, you see, “ask for more,” that was his advice, he would appear, and it was deep, yet simple, for me, the piece of advice. “More,” he kept saying. Staring at me. “More,” his advice was “ask for more” in life, helping me change the sheets. I asked for fresh sheets. “Could I get fresh sheets?” More socks. I was freezing. I changed my outfit…it was so big on me, it was hilarious. And I was so cold, I had a blanket wrapped around me, sometimes.
I’m thinking about Lisa Rios, my roommate, as I believe she was a suicide attempt, that was my feeling… maybe I’m right, maybe I’m wrong. Parcouring on a roof, that’s where her story began, as to how she got here. A remarkable story. To be expected, not to be afraid of. You see I don’t know where CARE is, so I can’t comment on methods, you see. “It’s alright,” simply, that she attempted suicide. Is there something to hide? She might, eventually, benefit talking about it… her sister calling in the middle of this was extraordinary to me. Family problem? Something? Right? I’m really really — after your family. I’m after them, specifically. I wanna know who these people are, most certainly. My mother was Dr. J. Again, I don’t know what that is, but given they sedated her, and to be generous about it, even, that would be the only reason, right? If she was…? When she wasn’t doing anything? She wasn’t acting out??
It’s just that people don’t think about it that way. There are plenty of people who have ideas, more experienced than I am, I am not one of them, I did not go to school, I don’t have years of clinical research behind me, so that’s not the problem… there are plenty of people… around. It’s that care is the basic problem.
So my family sucked. If this happened, you think they would admit it? Not necessarily. I see you. You see, for me, at this point, if someone came through the hospital, is there sexual abuse here? That’s the first question I have. Astonishing I know. And it’s how I’m asking, watch out, see you. “You’re her family?” All smiles.
“SO happy to meet you.”
“Ohhhhhhh,” back to Naples, “ohhhhhhhh!!”
“I see you.”
“She sees,” Naples would echo, “she sees, she sees,” applause, very good.
Nasty, family can be nasty. At this point, it’s so common, apparently, even, sexual abuse, that you might as well — just factor that in as a possibility, as that would make you crazy, wouldn’t it? I don’t know with Lisa Rios, but her family —and she started talking, literally, and then, her sister called. How spooky is that…Good, she called, very good. And it didn’t seem like she ever called? I don’t know the deal here, evidently, if they contacted her, it was just random timing, but it was remarkable to the both of us.
And then, I would have adopted this woman, child, she had severe MS. She needed an attendant all the time, I think it was MS, and I thought, who, where, and she was there… she just couldn’t speak… she just had a particular gait. She lost her ability to stand, she started buckling and falling down out of nowhere in the hall, and the woman just stood there, did nothing. I launched into action and just followed her fall, right? I went to physical theater school. Just like that. all good. In the end, the sweetest apparition, I was leaving the hospital, she came running around the corner to hug me. She threw her arms around me. I put up a hand to the attendant, please don’t yank her, CARE. CARE. I hugged her. She’s there, she felt me, or she saw I was leaving. I hate this subject, I’m sorry. I think about her a lot. I didn’t know her name.
“That’s a trip to that hospital, sure.”
Yeah, and here comes Obama in my mind, I needed this person. “There are many people like her so-to-speak… “ so when I think about it, that some people might be confused, when I say there’s no CARE here — Obama’s not. He’s not confused. It’s a hug, you see? She needs a hug. Care. Care bear. People don’t know what CARE is, this is the point. And it’s amazing. Care, yeah, think about it. It hurts me so much, people don’t understand what care is. It’s astonishing. I needed an authority to help me through some of this, if you would, so I just thought about President Barack Obama, actually, because he’s a president, and he brought that experience and knowledge, because wow, was that true about my parents? Was this a sex scandal that one might see on TV, and he helped me to remain calm, in my mind. He’s been through a lot, that man, heard lots and lots of stories, crazy stories, so he would never shut me down. To be frank, I was going through so much in my body, so I would walk, quite simply, and imagine him telling me, in a manner of speaking, that he’s spoken to veterans of war, like people have gone through very traumatic experiences, and they’ve made it through… honestly, that thought, just keeping the president in mind, what he would tell me, as I am now speaking to a sexual trauma expert, right now, just trying to determine if this really happened to me…
But right, back to the subject of care in the mental health system. Care, it might let a little light in — be caring, yeah, you’re caring for a person, so you have to be human about it, which isn’t dirty, come on, not normally. You might find that people might respond differently than you’d think… it’s fine, states are fine, sometimes, most of the time, I think. I doubt it’s as scary as it might appear in our minds, but I think that will sort itself out in time… just relinquishing the fear… that’s all… there’s real truth in it, that healing is available to everyone… if you choose to be with that thought, healing, care, just because I feel this arena is truly misunderstood. Reality is a connected entreprise, so connection, yeah, care, you care when you connect, and I laugh, sometimes, because I think I’m stating the most obvious sentence, as to what care is.
That’s the problem—and it’s there and out there in the world… is there anything real anymore? That’s the question people are asking themselves. And oftentimes, I’m going, um, the world is pretty real to me… Is there anything real anymore? Maybe people have their versions, like I care about this topic, this topic, this topic… whatever that topic is, now apply it to a person… if you would…here. That’s my suggestion. It’s not that big of an adjustment. It’s just, I don’t know why we’ve forgotten care, or why it’s never. been here, or something…?
I wanted to start the Barbara Harris foundation, (currently she’s bopping around my apartment, doing her thing… ) that’s one of my dreams, to start a foundation in her honor, as I hoped things were going to go well for me, and that I would be able to do that, and probably it will be in this arena, though there’s room for drama, supporting the field. We’re not money people, Barbara Harris and I, but really, we mean what we say. So I wanted to do something just philantrophic.
I had a mysterious experience with her, it’s been a few years, remember since all that. I was in Sorrento again, in the cliffs, and I was so filled with sensation, like, okay, when I thought about this book, I felt I was actively dialoguing with it, so I worked it out, that — come on, right, we’d make a foundation —something, and I didn’t want money, I didn’t want to make any money from it. I don’t know what that means, but I wanted to pay the employees super well, create an ecosystem, I had a vision in that direction. But there’s no money, yet, I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what that means, because I just got here, but I love that thought. What a great idea… because an actress can haunt you, you see, lol, and if you’re lucky, she might even help you… I cracked up thinking about it, like if you have information on an actress, she might haunt you… So that was fun, and I hope I get there.
Anyway, I’m taking it easy today, cleaning day.
Barbara Harris in cataracts, Puckish hint of a smile, behind me — time to get to the living room.
Thanks for reading.
So, a last thought. I had a hilarous moment during a meditation at the top of COVID, or it was more like a spontaneous thought, as that was the moment I decided to finally tackle this book I wanted to write about my childhood. I was a very different person at that juncture with a very different understanding of the story than I do now. I was living in a penthouse next to the Flatiron building. I got lucky, looking out three grand windows in an architect’s chair, at it, as all the windows framed the graphic novel that the Flatiron district in New York looks like. Oe day, just like that, I suddenly found myself on a beach with a single windsurf sitting there, waiting for me…and I got on that and I started flying as fast as I could across the sea… I was going somewhere, but where? It comes back to me now as an image, as that happened at the beginning of the story. When I reopened all this.
I was living in the Chelsea Hotel, the famous artists residence, in Virgil Thomson’s dusty old apartment, three apartments in one, a real enchanted New York apartment, the last original in the Cheslea Hotel, but I had to get out once COVID struck. That was a ride, one I did not expect.
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