Wow, what a time in my life, just because I couldn’t even have predicted that I would be here. I had to take a step back from my friends because I have no idea if I was abused as a child?
And if you were to read the story, you would understand.
Wee — fists in the air — Nicole and I charging through space, Angelica Leibowitz in a witch’s hat, even, dancing along with us, practically.
Forget my father, this specialist said, it sounds as though it might have happened to me, but he couldn’t confirm where it might have happened, obviously, and I haven’t been able to continue sessions with this man again, because I don’t know anything about waking up to something like this, or even what the body of this experience even means. He works with psychedelics too, as I don’t know what to say, I stopped taking them, but I don’t know. And then, the 5 AM message that the slytherins might have sent me, impacted me physically, but I was under a lot of tension, as I was going through experiences I could not explain.
So I figured…offer myself up to science, maybe make some kind of impact. Like, “are you experiencing sensations,” rather than hallucinations. Right? Thanks. I was a mess, physically wrestling with all this. And on top of it, I’m PSYCHIC right? To all these MEN, exclusively, I’m PSYCHIC the MOST psychic. Just please. Like I want to talk to my friends. Absurd. Like I want to talk to “my adopted family…” ahhhh, just graining away from them in terror. BRING me Cindy Crawford, bring me Cindy Crawford, and have her stand beside me as I go through some of these experiences I went through with them. Have her be “my guide.”
To the specialist, my mother was so unhinged sexually, and he’s not stuttering or shying away from the content, evidently. I mean, can you imagine? Waking up to all that years later? But my friends, first of all, they didn’t even say hello, how are you? One of my friends pulled away, I went after him, and he acted mean. I had a medical emergency? I let him go. I couldn’t act like I didn’t go through hell on earth or something to appease this guy. None of my friends even called or wrote a note. And the one who did, she acted as if nothing was wrong, two of them did. That was extremely isolating and confusig. It wasn’t friendly or nice at all. To these two women, I finally confessed that I didn’t know if I was abused, I mean, I was in agony for a year, and neither one of them even acted like I said that.
And one of the slytherins, the one who brought me into plant medicines, he was equally aloof and dismissive. Imagine? This was my world.
Twenty years ago, this same group of people would not have responded like that, so I do see the internet and social media in the bizarreness of their responses. Even my close friend from LA, she doesn’t even know the story, the full story, partially because it wasn’t totally in my grasp, or it wasn’t appropriate to talk about, and no one was going to understand the notion of “putting on a show” for my father who started to call and request visits? When his child was living in some other house?
It was like the tennis match, which I’ll get to, and a lawyer will understand. It was as if the stranger the match became, like these tennis players are acting ABSURD, that was the cue for people to ACT like it wasn’t, well, probably, this and that. A cop isn’t doing that. They’re going, WTF! Why are you acting like that? They have no clue.
Anyway, it was very simple in my mind, I would have never reacted like any of these people. My cousins in Italy? They didn’t even ask me a question as to how I was doing…when I got out of a hospital, so why would I want to talk to these people?
I sent a couple of messages when Angela died, but that’s about it. My cousins, even, the ones who CAME AFTER ME ABOUT MY STORY SO HARDCORE? They didn’t even send a “how are you?” message as I stayed with Angela at that time. And her sister was a bitch, quite frankly, coming after me because I wanted to learn the name of the plants? Are you joking? These two, parents, picking on my body?
Why am I skinny?
I was in the hospital, assholes.
Bye.
To me, we’re not family. Bye. I’ll be glad to exercise my new bitch if I ever get a chance. Fuck you. Angela even said it, “learn how to say that, you have to,” okay? “VAI FANCULO,” she said it in a beautiful location. “Tell these assholes,” switching lanes, and I didn’t even tell her about it, “who are making you feel like shit to fuck off, you’re still fragile, you don’t need this shit.” Okay? So she was AWARE that I was in a fragile state, and her sister? Her sister’s husband. I had absolutely no idea what I was looking at. So bye bye.
This subject, mental health — sucks. It truly does. I was appalled. I would never behave like, literally, any of these people.
I have some trouble now, not knowing what to do. I have no interest in speaking to any of these people. I suppose people have “social friends?” I guess that’s what my cousins are. AGAIN, the parental routine I received at the top of this decade from them, it was 100% bullshit, though they call me to keep in touch. I did not NEED to be wrapped up in some TV SHOW. And that goes to the fucking guru, the Hollywood guru, send in Cindy Crawford, telling ME I’m putting on shows. Sure sure. That guy was one BAD showman.
I don’t care that much about “being social.” I stopped talking to my cousins, but I’m doing the “society thing,” because that’s what they’re doing. I said to my friend, oh, now’s not a good time, which it isn’t, I need to keep my head clear so I can keep getting on my feet and seeing this specialist. So I’m no longer friends with these people. Being cordial, I mean, okay, sure, shrugging. To my two friends from NYU, look, if my friend told me she didn’t know if she was abused, I would not text her. I would call her. That goes to the head of the slytherins as well. They could all just move in there together, study magic, even. The last straw was my friend who can’t call, she literally is unable to call, and sure, I had problems picking up phones in college, but I got over that.
Unbelievable to me. So yesterday, my friend Jo goes, whenever I’m around. “Sounds good! Now it’s not the best time for me personally,” which seems to work as a repellant, and good, “so let’s see each other on the other side of that.” That’s all I’m saying. “Not a good time.” I’m disconnecting from these people. She texted me this morning, and I told her why. I’m not going any further.
I couldn’t believe, even, how people responded. “Imagine?” In the words of Angelica Leibowitz, “imagine!” Nicole, her daughter, told her that I wasn’t sure what happened back there, if it was true, that I was in the hospital even, and her mother treated me so cruelly on the phone? She didn’t even ask, how are you? I was blown away, really, I was blown away by these people. Everyone was so unreal. God forbid you go through a medical emergency. The entire ordeal was confusing, of course it was, but I couldn’t talk about what I was going through, and no offense, none of my friends remembered that I came from a background? Like, “one of these stories,” that this political assassin friend of mine believed would bring me instant fame? And also HIM? Are you joking? He can’t mention it to a goddamn health care worker but he can CAST himself? Retarded. Drugs can make you retarded, too, it’s true.
From beginning to end, I’m not like these people. Forget everything even up until “I don’t know if I was abused back there,” forget everything up until that moment. I was so hurt, I was so shocked, really, because I went through hell on earth, and this guru, especially, he didn’t even pass me a note… he was a cruel man. I did not deserve that, if you read about that lunatic, really in Oppenheimer Gadget.
I didn’t have one real friend through that, not one.
My friend who texted this morning, finally, I asked her to reach out to me, I need someone to REACH out, I need someone to check in on me, for the love of God. And she doesn’t get it in her texts.
This woman attached to the slytherin was equally airy and strange, a nurse. I couldn’t tell, because, no offense, the way those people responded seemed to suggest that he could have sent that message, even, like they’re not saying “there’s no way, come on Maria,” they’re just……………….
Though the Korean revolutionary did, “I asked him,” he said, and he could have lied. He does. He lies. “I mean he’s crazy but,” so why did you introduce me to a crazy person? If he’s saying, “that guy is crazy,” WHY didn’t he say that to me? So that was a yikes, a major yikes, and put yourself in my shoes, in fact. I came from a BACKGROUND for the love of GOD. No, “you shouldn’t get close to that person,” is what he should have said, “YOU DON’T EVEN MAKE SENSE MARIA, and that guy has problems, major problems. Thisis not the time.” Sending me over there to hold space for the man who took too many drugs. NO, that’s time to say, “DUDE, too many drugs, DUDE. Fuck your genius,” man, I can introduce you to Dr. J, my mother, a genius with a major DRUG problem. You never met a BIGGER genius. Is she…ridiculous? You see? At the SET UP, okay? It probably wasn’t the time.
Even the psychic, the real psychic in all this, he said what? “Your energy is kooky,” to me, and “that’s not someone you get close to,” he said, LATER. I don’t remember if he mentioned it in the beginning, I can’t. I’m not even sure if the psychic would act like he could “tell” if I was abused back there, but eek, right? Eek. Doesn’t look too good there, whatever it was. I mean, going through this story, waking up to it, I wanted to kill my parents. My mother was a total lunatic. My father too. I was in a SEX SCANDAL, home again, because some BRAZILIAN mother is LOSING her mind, there’s no MONEY left, so she dropped me off like an object, and these two idiots are looking at ME for having had an episode while some Iranian business manager, random, is yelling at ME?
Lunatics.
I went through a medical emergency — appalling. So I thought, wow, I really gravitated towards the wrong people, I really failed. You see now? What I mean. I failed. I did not build a support system, that’s on me, and I got close to the wrong people. It made writing about this heartbreaking, so I figured I’m better off on my own, for a while, I don’t need to stay friends if that’s not what we are. And again, I was under the impression that I was a good friend. Maybe I wasn’t.
The slytherin said that, and then, he farted. In response to that. “You’re a really good friend,” and he farted LONG AND HARD, dude, I got the message — regardless, and did you send me that message at 5 AM? You see? Not that hard to draw a line and circle this message.
When I look back on that, a good friend, in my opinion, would have said, I’m not doing drugs with you, and why the fuck are you doing so many drugs? You wanna get TEA downstairs? Please, this ridiculous story this man who loved, I guess, the man I had a brief affair with? A man who talked to someone at a journey, who spoke about me as if we were in an actual relationship????????? Wasn’t asking for it, bud. Evidently, another special case. Buh bye. And look, Cindy Crawford is already — in your face — “WHERE is the proposal of MARRIAGE?” Dave Chappelle could also deliver that well. Okay? WHERE? We do not see it.
People enable. I would never ever — I mean, to the Korean Revolutionary, also a slytherin, if my friend farted on him on a phone, I would have called that person and said, what the fuck are you doing? I would not say, “he treats people in unspeakable ways, sometimes, and I do not understand it.” It’s ridiculous. AGAIN, why was I encouraged to go near this person????????? Did he get WORSE? Speaking to the sexual trama specialist, who works with psychedelics, you see, he’s taking notes for SURE. “Okay so you didn’t… end up anywhere you should have…”
If I were a plant medicine facilitator? Oh, you’re a genius who needs drugs everyday? Is life so hard to bear? Is it so hard for you? Never happening. Get the fuck out. But of course these were money hungry people, former addicts themselves. Nothing wrong with that. But check yourselves. The genius routine, I’m telling you, um, works. If necessary, it’s goodbye, actually, that’s a real friend. If the political assassin, the blond, my other friend, started talking about how drug addicts are on a higher plane of consciousness? Today? I would flat out reject that in his face and leave. “What happened to you?” Oh wait, “you were always into drugs, child.” How dare you, I’d leave. And he wouldn’t even try to call because he’s a coward.
No trying anything funny, either. Not like he’s reading this, but how he was talking might alert the authorities, maybe not seriously, as they deal with this all the time, but in the movie, wink, since he wants to be in one, I might — be that secret spy, my friend, as I came from a family of SPIES, according to Dr. J, getting involved with Iranian spies, apparently, living under some GUISE of a tax attorney in the United States, that’s what that lunatic said. I would follow you… minorly… just to make sure that drug addict stays — where I think he lives. Be real. People go through dark times, I know, they know, they know people do too many drugs, and I’m just saying ALL THIS WAS AROUND ME during MY dark time.
My cousins can fuck off too. It’s like, in the end, I got sucked into writing, and that ended up being a dark road, so there’s nothing I can say about how I chose to live my life, if that makes sense, looking back and seeing sense I thought, is there any way I can help someone like me out there? I cried, a lot, I had to hold myself through that, “I made strange choices.” Why are you involved with these people? These aren’t your close friends. Why I made any of these decisions, I do not know.
Not all, but they definitely showed their true colors during a crisis. Yeah, there’s President Obama, you see? Coming to mind. He knows, he does. Crises, not always the best showmanship. I could laugh. It’s more like, if my friend said, “this isn’t the best time personally,” if she were a close friend, we wouldn’t be here. So I had to exercise self-forgiveness because I wasn’t thinking or living, naturally, life in true harmony — where you have a group of friends, solid, where they would not even care wtf you were saying… Jesus Christ, already, the group of friends I wanted would have banded together, “like no,” in college, “this is a no, you don’t make sense… you gotta go to therapy.”
“You don’t understand, you don’t make sense.”
“Do we need to call Tracy?” Your mother in New Jersey? She needs help. Have you heard this story?”
You see what I mean? “Your story makes no sense.”
Right? People said I was lucky because I was pretty and skinny? Imagine? Just bring me Cindy Crawford, let her — obliterate you. Let her blow you away. I ONLY know about the children of celebrities, what happens there, my ears naturally perk up, the rest, noiiiisssssee. Damn, she really gave that man an earful. I’m on HER side, actually. “WHERE is the proposal of MARRIAGE?” You think Dave Chappelle isn’t this person? He’s asking first. When it comes to his daughter? “WHERE IS THE PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE?” Right? I’m on their side. I hope one day Chappelle reads MY understanding of him. I really don’t know what to say.
I had to think about what kind of friend I wanted to be, I guess, and what kinds of friends I wanted. I had to sort of let the rest go for a minute because I feel so confused. I could never really get on my feet enough, to be frank, I mean, basically speaking, even when I had money, so I couldn’t really operate, if that makes sense. That one was hard. Again, I have Hannah Arendt in my corner, most definitely, as someone who’s going to tell me it wasn’t real… she’s definitely investigating a sex scandal over a four year old, “what?” It was fairytale land.
It’s more like, nothing down that road worked out. Even my cousins. I’m not even invited anymore, like do they think I do not know that? So WHY would I want to talk to you? Are they going to lie? Just please, I was two hours away by plane ride in Turkey for MONTHS. Bye. Am I wrong? Like your kid, just please.
The memories of these two parents getting weirdly attached to me… aren’t that pleasant. I never felt like my feelings mattered less, like they weren’t real at all. I just heard “I wanna be like you,” from Jungle Book, as it played once on the TV at Christmas, “human too…”
I must say, it feels like the people in my life were a bit inhuman. I take steps back, out of the story, because unfortunately, my mother treated me like less than a person when I was four. Sure, she bought me stuff from time to time when I was four. Four years old. Thanks for the lingerie at sixteen. “Wear it to a sleepover with friends?” Really? A turquoise slip for a romantic, uh, partner? Absurd.
Was there something going on?
I regard the whole design, with nothing to say other than, make it Andromeda, some action flick where some superhero woman doesn’t have anyone. She gets texts from time to time.
I started bringing other friends into the foreground, it’s just, I don’t know them well enough, and I don’t want to talk about it, actually, I just came to discover, I didn’t have the life I wanted, and I didn’t have the people in it, either. I should talk to Steve, less because I want to talk to him about me, but he started talking to his brother again… amazing. He left him for dead, literally. I don’t know what to do with this part, so maybe I’ll get a drink with him. Just to hear him.
So here I am, Madonna, at 39, lol, I’m trying to picture this, working at Subway, acting silly with tomatoes, I think, and just with grit and style, right? She goes — get out of my way. She’s Madonna, and she doesn’t think she’s talented. Funny. That guru was insane, wasn’t he? He was the OPPOSITE of close, that was not someone to get close to, and he should have had what is called a HEART in being honest with HIMSELF. A ridiculous man, driving around in his nice car like he’s some wiseman. Like he knows what trauma is? Or what childhood trauma is? Something? Stupid.
So, here I am again, my friend on this text, I’m just letting that go…
Alright, so I’ll keep reaching beyond my little life. I’ll keep getting up on a mic, I’ll keep trying to find someone to sing with, I’ll keep figuring out how to break into acting, and I’ll see how that goes. I gottat keep on finishing my book though that’s a bit of an ordeal, and I’ll see if I can write a script even and try and sell it… I’ll look up how to get this kind of agent, and what I need to do there… and I gotta figure out the basics. That’s it, I’m going to go for a walk, get a coffee, imagine Tom Cruise laughing as I listen to the Mission Impossible theme and picture Barbara Harris in one of his movies. A woman who gets swept away in some spy movie and she will become a spy over the course of this picture. It wouldn’t be the movie, but it could work, Ethan falls ridiculously in love with this person, I think. Just picturing Barbara Harris launching herself over to some landing, impossible, what she just did. And she’s going to become the cutest lethal weapon. I had the best time, laughing, just picturing her in different movies.
I have to finish this scene between us, I gotta send it out, even if the other mag closed their submission window :( — I suppose I could just send it to their regular submissions, maybe. It’s like being polite never helps, actually, though I try to be, but you gotta knock, even if the door closes, it seems. Not necessarily take a fire extinguisher and start banging on the door, no, but it seems you have to knock.
You have to keep knocking. People don’t do that. They take “no” to mean “no,” not “well, what about…?” That’s where I am… “what about…?” Something like this. I just have to keep going to open mics, but I gotta figure out how I can do a show.