I woke up at 2:03 am. I’m so tired but I can’t sleep, I’m on my period, so I’m drinking a tea, thinking outloud, feeling closer to myself, wishing I never met men…. not these men. I get that I was pretty, but I was just a person, and couldn’t these men, with their money even, have found a girlfriend?
I really didn’t want to concentrate on my trauma or discuss my family with random rich guys. I mean, I look back on this guru — and the fact that he would put me at RISK, I don’t know what he was thinking! What DID he know about women, even? He never had a girlfriend. Just some vague woman “he loved once” who he caught making up with a guy so early on they didn’t even have a relationship.
Now, no offense, does a man who has never had a relationship sound like the person who should get involved? I peer back at this guy stumped. He was, John Malkovich or Sacha Baron Cohen as I see him pop up…in characters that have appeared throughout my life… making me laugh. He held himself as if he were almighty. He was a GENIUS. He was even a genius psychologist… and why would he do that to me? People do things that don’t make any sense. That was unnecessary.
And so, once again, according to the sexual trauma specialist, I’m going to have to take on MORE PROBLEMS that aren’t MINE. “What do you think your problems were?” He asked me, like, uh, that’s the question. “What do you think?” Not I’m a BIG STRONG MAN IMPOSING MY POINT OF VIEW ON YOU, YOU FUCKING WOMAN. But in Gary’s words, my friend, a Yankees fan, beginning to fucking dosey-do, a man who KNOWS what the dance is, skipping around, a tough guy: you’re special but beneath me, BUT I like you but I don’t: “weird men.”
It jsut sucks for me because I feel like I wasted my youth. Jesus Christ, I think Aunt Jane would be, BOOBS, classical, “I didn’t think you were THAT pretty…” I was just “a girl from Jersey,” as I spent time there. “Maybe I had an allure?” But this didn’t bring me normal men in this case… it brought me these older men… wanting to help me, imposing a point of view onto me, and now, I don’t even know who that person was. UM, I came from a background? Will Hunting would be — maybe, um, acting stupid about it. Can you picture me in the back of Affleck’s car…explaining to these guys…and then, this Brazilian lady… she comes over, legs shaped by the Gods, that would make Casey laugh. “Oh yeah?” “Oh yeah, best legs you’d ever seen, legendary.” “She goes,” eating burgers, “these are 100% Brazilian.”
“We’re dancing the lambada and dancing for my father standing in a wide open door…” absurd! I pictured myself in that movie, looking like Blossom, and it seems as though I was… an attractive person, someone who had a sparkly smile, someone who was warm, someone who was vulnerable, too, hilariosuly, I believe. But why that was a problem, I don’t know. And I ended up in the outer limits because I was from there, my understanding of that story, too, was delusional… and you can see WHY, too, as the world I moved through could not face it, they did not understand, though they INSISTED that they did. As if I needed SETH books? Channeler tapes? Some dick screenwriter waving his dick in my face?
Over a sex scandal — you see? The sexual trauma specialist is throwing his next note at the Skype screen. “Newsflash.” Yup, it’s a scandal, we’re moving through the PHONE call, my father starts calling and ACTING innocent. Literally. The man starts CALLING and ACTING INNOCENT, and this Brazilian woman, imagining me telling Will Hunting, goes apeshit. Raising my brows, “SHE TOO CAN PLAY INNOCENT AND NICE SIR.” And then, “the dementia.” I deeply regret right now that I even chose to talk about this story, which was problem one, because I’m too vulnerable. It puts me at a disadvantage at step one, “don’t do that.” Because you stop that, and all these problems go away… people don’t see themselves, Jesus Christ, I needed to find someone who wasn’t so goddamn affected by me.
And like, it was fascinating to me, because the slytherin who came into my life, a drug addict, I odn’t know about now, but he’s a drug addict or “a genius with special needs.” He only heard about me, from my ex, who spoke highly of me, which, again, I don’t totally get, but he wanted to be friends with me based on that… okay??? The Good Will Hunting crew is like, who is this guy? Who the fuck are all these people? So then, I begin doing psychedelics with him at some fancy hotel, sometimes, and it’s like, I couldn’t get addicted to these substances if you would, but, I’m not entirely sure WHY I ended up here… if that makes sense? I become psychic… it sounds like a cult, that’s what they’re saying. No one actually sees me, but they keep saying that.
And then I’m living at the Chelsea Hotel for free, because I want to be a writer? You see? Just met enablers. My head, looking at one of my friends, no, it was not screwed on right. The clothes even, I was always fun about it, but the persona I developed, like, wasn’t really me, exactly. And I keep needing to say I came from a background… no one did a proper induction, which I would deliver to the Hunting crew, like, you know some joke of an official talk, about your background, evaluating if you’re the right candidate, even, as I had to go through heart problems, mild, luckily, you know??? Being told by my ex, literally, that I wasn’t brought into this “work,” correctly. It just all sounds like a joke. Which was the entire story. It all sounds like a joke. I was mistreated… you know? Someone from my background. But I LOOKED okay, right? Except IT DEPENDS on the day! Couldn’t keep up with this shit. A mess.
(And my adopted family, let’s leave that for another day.)
Now, can you picture this? I hope I get there, now, I hope I published something worthy of note, if only to feel a sense of relief. Because that story doesn’t SOUND like… what it did to these people… Oprah, question one, or early on, I assure you, she’s going to not know what to do here: “when did it become a lie?” You know? “Your mother sounds like a really really crazy person.” Which was the sexual trauma’s POINT. He doesn’t have a PROBLEM with the subject. Neither does Oprah. She’s spoken to people who have been raped, molested, etc. But these men…they are going to act like they know… though they were not there. Truly! And everyone did. Everyone acted like they were there.
Will Hunting he’s in the dark for sure. “How am I going to be forty?” Now what? You know? I’m starting over completely. I think it goes without saying that I was making decisions here… it’s just, I have a hard time in the moment steering… because I actually thought I was…special, I guess, as you’re taught in Hallmark CARDS even to believe. That’s not a new concept. People are writing “you’re special” all the time. TO ME. That would be the operative word… as I skip through fields, I guess I was this girl, “the free spirit” inspiring you with “a Jenny tale?” Forrest Gump? I was SO CONFUSED. You see? I have no idea…
And then, you find out I’m from LADERA HEIGHTS. I was not poor by any means. And if I was poor, continuing to PEER at my ex, WHY are you bringing me into an expensive situation?! Truly. I was blown away. I’m just a girl from Jersey… to drive that one home. I’m from California, but my family is from Jersey. My father was from New Jersey. I was just some kid. I didn’t exactly demonstrate extraordinary gifts… not to say that I didn’t have them, but if the story could have opened up a career path, even, like, all that got crushed… by fucking people feeling SORRY for me? Or, wait, I was a really remarkable person… so why not crush it? Send her to outer space for shits and giggles, gurus in Beverly Hills. Obscene.
I couldn’t even believe it, imagine? Me telling the Hunting crew? And then, listen to this, “in BEVERLY HILLS…” the Pretty Woman hotel IN VIEW. I can see it! This man lifts his arm like a guru… an all-seeing guru in front of TASCHEN bookstore. He pointed at me. “You do not have to manage the shift in reality…” and once, he turns, no explanation needs, no intro, in BEVERLY HILLS. He called my mother SMART? Whoopee cushion. I travel with it now. UM? Deranged from step one. My mother was smart? This biz manager… of hers who saved her from this fiasco, Ghomi, he gave her a chance? Don’t be ridiculous. He needed his taxes handled.
DUH.
It’s like I look at this man who went to YALE? And I go, why was he acting so stupid? Smart? Look man, that would make the Zen Master Sybil BLOW. Did you call that woman SMART? “Wrapping her child up in a sex scandal,” as I throw rose petals into the air, a jubilee… the world is wondrous. Whoopee cushion. This story necessitated a whoopee cushion. So we may all, in a British accent, get heatfelt and sincere. “There is a purpose, there is use, here.” I’m telling you the things I had heard.
“She gave you away to save you from herself…”
“BREASTS,” Angelica Leibowitz said, “BREASTS at my door…”
I wouldn’t call her smart.
I would call what she did a disgrace.
That was revelatory most certainly: the way these men got involved in my life. Not one saw me for what I had, Hunting, “a soul, the right to breathe” insert some speech. It was amazing to me because I had money in the bank, but I could BE FAMOUS, money wasn’t real to this guru? I was just blown away by him as a person… wow! He really blew me away. His performance. So it goes to show, beware of help, you often have all that you need… I don’t know what to say, other than, I’m 39, and I feel as though I could dance circles around these men. But then, I had to become a parent to myself, and a parent has no time for these guys. Maybe a tea downstairs, on drugs, as a real friend, with the “special slytherin.” I ain’t your accomplice, dude, sometimes, I didn’t do it that often, but WHY am I here? Learning from him? I was personally confused.
None of these people knew anything about a writing career… the guru works in film… which wasn’t my pursuit. I thought that this guy loved books or something. And then, eating burgers with these guys, with a little glad that reads impossible, “he never even read any books!” Amazing! Holy shit, have you ever felt like you got HOOKED all over your weakness, and they all got brought out and almost killed you? And no one cared? And of course, the question… so thanks, that was the overall note. Thank you SO SO MUCH for your help. And now, I’m back to me…
Wondering how I got here. And so, Jane has been present with me, but she feels excited, happy, also, so I hope that’s a good sign. But I appreciate feeling her support because that was God awful. I just don’t need to call her a ghost, I mean, please, looking at Casey. He’s going to tell me “I’m just Irish…” laughing. Please, no more Victorian tales. My head was such a mess.
I had blind spots, general washes of unawareness about the illnesses my parents had. Forget the senitment, this guru was so sentimental, what am I supposed to do with that? YOU, someone who has NO context, like he couldn’t RELATE to me at all, like, literally at all. Other than, he, too, wanted to be a “successful writer,” when I still look back at this moment, that he said that, “I don’t see a problem with that,” but neither did I. WHY was he doing this? I just didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to sound RUDE. I should have been. “You don’t…” waving my hands… not ASKING for your help. Is that a problem?
He can’t RELATE to an adopted child, though that’s not the story. I do not have “the adopted thing,” which I don’t understand, where did that come from? That’s not the story. I understand I said I was sort of adopted by all these families, which was true, but that’s not the point. This guru’s brother told me within 2 seconds, that I had “all the adopted stuff.” WHAT are you talking about? Within 2 seconds? So he’s psychic too? Everyone is driving on their feelings wondering why “everything feels so disconnected…” Both my parents were ill. I was NOT adopted. I was in a scandal that could have landed in a textbook of some kind. I suppose the adopted thing referred to relating externally, or something, so I have no idea why these people got involved, if they did not have the expertise, that was the sexual trauma specialist’s very clear question. “WHO are these people?” Another bunch of geniuses. I’m telling you. MALE geniuses who did not need credentials, experience, he’s crumpling up his next note and tossing his years up in the air… no need.
I was so confused, I have to ask him this next time. So I went to an ayahausca ceremony, where two women supposedly realized that they had been abused as children… and is this a superpower? Can this become your superpower? I want to know what he thinks. He said, to me, the word is empowerment. Superpower feels a bit fantastical as a word, don’t you think? I don’t know, I just wonder how that sat with these women. But I’m supposed to say, “that story can become my superpower.”
I don’t know what to say to that. And then, um, the guru tells me early on, like why is acting like a teacher, have you ever TAUGHT? He says, “family is my life idea…” right? When that’s just a maladaptive pattern I had to work out, I sought to. This is what I mean — I tried so hard, I guess, I tried to work it out, and the second I got back to the states, these men PUNCHED me outta the water! Like it had claws, keeping me hooked. It was terrible. And I’m in SUPER nice locations. The richest locations. Amazing. Amal Clooney stays here… thinking about Bonnie Hunt in Only You 1994, an important feature film. She’s definitely not getting involved with any of these people. That’s for certain. So, I’m hiding behind her, like — get ‘em.. I am NOT Amal Clooney. “She’s special…” she had a very very bright career. She’s super intelligent. None of these men would DARE to even speak to her.
You see the difference?
I was gifted, Clooney, imagine? But HOW? I was psychic. HM? A, uh, not knowing what to do with it, a really nice person. THINK. THINK Aretha Franklin. She’s not saying THINK, THINK about what I’m doing to myself through you. THINK about what you’re trying to do to ME. There’s a snap back. There’s a fuck you in it. This is the point, why people listen to this song. “Freedom.” She’s broken TIES, my friends. She’s NO LONGER in that relationship. I’m telling you, I came to find… without ANY SUCCESS in sight, that it might not bring happiness, per se. Okay! Wish I had just found a job… didn’t get caught up in these fancy pictures.
And now, who gives a shit about writing? You feel me? I’ll keep going… but it’s an entirely new world. I’m still, though it’s better, letting go of the future stuff. I DIDN’T HAVE A PROBLEM. Now I have heartache. Still, at times, I feel so mediocre, truly, like I went through the MOST mediocre world, the mot mediocre. I felt so not special in the end. I feel like I have nothing to say, no clue what’s going to happen to me, no clue how I’m going to make real money… I’ll figure that part out, but that was… a small lifetime to work out. And now, I wouldn’t be in these situations to begin with. WHY would I be? To fluff YOUR feathers? To live in a palace without plumbing? Why? Because it’s cool? Okay! Look, if my daughter was moving into the Chelsea Hotel for free at 30, I would be on a plane… Amal Clooney getting the VOICE note recording… as I would tape these conversations with self…
“She’s lost her mind!”
“What is this? Great Expectations?”
“Time to write? It’s called the WEEKEND!”
“Can’t visit? Take a few pictures?”
You know? Sometimes you try and take shortcuts… if I had a real job, maybe I could save up a bunch of money, “okay…” to me now… but no plumbing? I went to workspace down the street with showers, a nice space, it’s just, why? I think Amal Clooney would be on that channel. “This is…”
“EXCUSE ME BLOSSOM MADELEINE PIXIE GIRL?” NO. NO. NO.
You see? When I look back on these mothers— FAIL. That’s not who you were. I was my mother. I’m showing UP, hello? Knock knock. Um??? May I? What is going on here? If you think about it… I expect my child to be able to handle themselves in the world. “Practice writing?” That’s one of my Dave Chappelle moments. “Did you just say practice writing by working at a psychedelic mag?” That job didn’t help me learn anything. Not really. It didn’t help me learn how to structure a book… anything about the business… it didn’t introduce me to anyone in the industry… it didn’t even help me write features… as I had no idea what I was doing, but neither did… anyone else, in a sense, do you know what I mean?
Like the slytherin said, he liked my Fantasia piece, and I look back on it, “it’s purely descriptive.” What’s good about this? I got some jobs, but it’s more, “where are you intending to end up?” This guru’s fantastical ethereal — you don’t need direction, and again, I don’t get this man, who made some movies… it’s just that, in thinking about people who succeeded beyond him, even, not to make it about that, I don’t think that they would have approached me like that. Truly. So…
I’m seeing the “I don’t know” emoji. And there’s Barbara Harris. The two of us making a quick getaway on the psycho spiritual plane. Help. Please. I needed it. Up against the wall, was it really because I was pretty? Do you know how heartbreaking that is? My friend Nate, he said, I was such a light, someone he really didn’t want to see get taken advantage of… especially in the guise of help. This doesn’t really apply to the slytherin, but he has a help impulse that he needs to keep in check. And he was too powerful within this group, which I can’t, and when STUFF yeah, starting coming UP for me, there was NO ONE IN SIGHT from this so-called therapy group. You call yourselves faciliators? Me? As someone who was told who could do this?
GUESS WHAT? I disagree from step one.
LOOK, no offense, I was not the person to give drugs to… obviously?????
They look like drug addicts.
Amal Clooney? That’s what she’s seeing. I’m pretty sure. I’m all about medicines, whatever, but I was not the person to give drugs to… I have no idea why I even got involved with YOU KNOW WHO. Why? I was not interested in him. Not for real. And then, I find out that his relationship to the slytherin was — a touch beyond platonic. I pulled out. And then I got to get phone calls? One, or get some slytherin acting like he loves me, but he really hates me, and he’s going to FART on the phone at me after I exited a hospital?
RIGHT, thank you. Hand on my heart, an organ that took four years to work out… please don’t give someone heart openers… unless you assess their medical history. Peace sign. Please. I was a gaping hole. And NO, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have been treated casually, coming from the background that I came from. Wanting to SMILE like Julia Roberts in Mystic Pizza, except I don’t get — the emotion. It’s a pure fuck you. Call it strict. Fuck you. I had to reject it completely. I just feel like a person now. That royally fucked with my head. This ex of mine, seriously speaking, he tells me VIA text that I am a portal, channel, traveling on multiple planes of existence, that I’m too psychic which makes it hard for me to manifest…
Have you heard of the incredible HULK? GET THE FUCK away from me! You ruined my life! Vishen is 100% confused. I assure you. Vishen would be 100% confused. He might offer me a chip, dip, because wtf. But I say, I don’t know anymore about what happened, and this man is going to shut ME down. I was appalled, offended, and greatly disappointed, YES, GURU. I was amazed by this man… acting like a guru in Beverly Hills. Picture the Italian place, please, with this man repeating paradiso at me… the feeling… he’s currently surfing, leaning in to demonstrate “the egg,” how reality is an EGG. Awareness, yes, we hatch. We come into awareness. WHERE was HIS? In Beverly Hills. OUT and ABOUT.
This was not a friendship. He even stated he wasn’t even interested… I was so confused by this man. I wondered how Jamie Foxx at POKE in Beverly Hills one day, got where he did… right? Why? I don’t know, I had seen him recently on Instagram. And the thing is, he took steps just like anyone else. The guru goes, “continuity is bullshit.” Sure, maybe it’s not A, B, C, or something, like you can get the audition which changes the course of your life, but “I imagine he took steps…” no? In the real world? In any case, I have no idea what happened to me, because I was STRUCK by the guru’s deranged play, night one. I really was struck by this guy.
He did not have an accurate read on me. He did not see me. He was not paternal… not knowing what to do… confusing. And his obsession with “you create your own reality…” can you understand? Wanting to hold someone’s hand at a wedding? That we’re in it together, type deal, but I was… unable to totally enter the world… which has action in it. You pursue. I suppose some people stumble into their careers, get discovered, that wasn’t my story. I wasn’t STOPPED on the street…. despite my fab clothes. I suppose I was stopped for a photo or two. And the clothes, I guess, didn’t help me not be seen as someone to help? Does that make sense? I had range, but I was blown away. And then, my best friend starts getting stars in his eyes…
Casting himself in movies………………….???????????????????
Excuse the emphasis.
I couldn’t even finish a book.
And now, I’m like, UM, I do not care THAT MUCH about that story, not knowing if, in public, people are going to get — WHY I got so much attention, or they’ll be ABLE. to HANDLE the dimension of it. Meaning, yeah, looking at talk show hosts, am I supposed to LOSE it, start weeping, in public? Not really. Looking at these people, because that story PUT ME ON THE SPOT. How was I supposed to be? You know? Did I LOOK wounded? I mean, I can’t tell. Because apparently not, sometimes, like, what? (OBAMA appeared in my mind) Like a normal person?
I had problems, evidently, I mean, I might not have seen them correctly, as I had to become a real advocate for myself, I OBVIOUSLY had problems. I’m just not SEEING what they are. It’s about SEX, newsflash, that old subject. SEX. We’re dancing the lambada — all the way through — a song and dance about sex the year Kaoma took the world by storm, so it was playing EVERYWHERE, movies being made. It could not be MORE on the nose. Unbelievable, what can happen to a perosn, and always, if you want to know what I THINK? If anyone cared? You could direct some of that care to better places. TO ME, it was interesting what people care about, what they don’t care about, how they didn’t want my story to exist…
“Did she know what she was doing?”
My mother? UM YEAH, unless she can prove otherwise.
Now here comes Dave Chappelle talking about the justice system, you see what I’m saying. She’s mentally ill, YEAH, except she’s on a criminal line. So did she go temporarily insane? WHY? And like, I didn’t have any real support at all. Like knock knock, what the fuck was that? Amal Clooney = star. Please. IF THIS HAPPENED IN HER FAMILY? I believe she’s making a personal visit. I’m sorry? Right? I think I’m correct. Obama? UM??? “Crazy cousins…” if this happened in my family? Are you joking? This is where the Neapolitans would be on my side in fact. No no no. Not in my family. Too far. Way too far. So what do I do with that? This story ruined my life! I hardly have a relationship even with my cousins anymore… I can’t even talk to them… everyone I knew abandoned me, yes, through the most painful years of my life. These brothers — needing to stay in their lane. Forget the guru, he conveniently disappeared, didn’t eevn pass his special friend a “how are you,” probably because he felt guilty. His comments to me during this so called book mentorship were — delusional. Like, I gotta “become an extraordinary man” over a book? This isn’t the Hero’s Journey. Can you imagine?
I was so clearly not fine.
“The topic sentence is,” do you see how utterly stupid he appears? “Your mother gave you away to a total stranger when I was four…” That’s not the topic sentence. No one reading that story is going to know what to do with it, if you took the time to simply interrogate, you see. Such a mess. So I reopened these years… with this guy. Whoosh. I have a heart, and I’m saying no at step one to myself, recording these convos, as I had to blast away these men, I had to blast away the psychic shit, blast away the delusional DEBUT. And I had to separate myself from my friends, mostly, because they don’t understand what they’re talking about and they kept shutting me down, and not even giving a shit how I was doing. Unreal. My heart was totally broken. This guru was such an asshole.
OVER a girl who was in a sex scandal. WOW. That man should be ashamed of himself. Telling me a fictional character is a really good psychological device. That’s what he said. I see, maybe psychically, shrugging, his public persona, and who cares? About his facade? What the fuck was that? WOW, I’m just going WOW.
Now, I see a man kicking up his socks, no issue with being with a woman, if you would, holding architectural plans: extension, better bathtubs, showing me the way… DECK. BBQ. THIS. Think the DECK. The really great deck. So I hope I can still find that person, and there, I feel a little better, because I can… I just, whoa, had quite a journey to get here…but apparently, according to the guru, the suitors will POUR IN… once this story gets out. Nothing but suitors. I don’t get the point in speaking vaguely. He thought I was a star? Okay… like a movie star? Or what? I was a star of some kind… okay… I’m just seeing my looks, to get super basic about it. And yes, a personality, smiling, rolling my eyes at this douchebag.
Let’s see if I have talent, no? Sure, I’m down. “Let the healing begin,” clapping. Will Hunting is on my page. He’s at this psychedelic group with me. He’s chilling with the guru with me. Let the healing begin meets Keanu Reeves: whoa. I went through a rude awakening. I think the Zen Master Sybil was worried about that. Just that I was going to get caught up in these Neptune— she would say, these NEPTUNE universes, and it’s just where I came from. I’m not sure about the language, if you would, but that’s what she meant. It’s all dreamy and ethereal. Fantasy too. Men with lush imaginations… I mean, nothing wrong with it, but I didn’t need to get caught up… and all I can say to myself, is, you came from a background.
So what are you going to do?
So that makes me feel better. Like I didn’t get it. I wasn’t operating sensically because I didn’t want to project that story out onto the world… I was disrespected so young… and as my cousins even prove, I was disrespected at hello, normally, with this story. Like in college, this professor is the most insensitive man on planet earth, the one I got involved with, not seeing the real shitshow I was in, I hated this man. I hated I got involved with this asshole at all. I lived with a man who had DEMENTIA, secret DEMENTIA for ten years. At least! REJECT. I ended up rejecting the whole thing. Like get the fuck away from my kid. Like that sort of feeling. Like, I’ll deal with her, later. Stepping into all these houses — what the FUCK are you doing?
“Well you,” meaning a parent, “weren’t there.”
So now, there’s the secret, the key. Just become a parent. And blast these assholes away, messing with your kid. I would look at this guru in the utmost disgust. And here comes “the actress.” Right? The actress would rip you to shreds in public. She doesn’t give a shit. And I’m laughing. You bet your ass. And the thing is, I’m not exactly reacting as if I were a VICTIM… that’s an idea that’s detached from me, but people don’t get how these dynamics work. I made my choices… evidently, but upon first glance, you see, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I’m sitting there, a mother, staring at all these…people. LOOK asshole, if some guy started showing up in PARIS with drugs, I would be on a PLANE — and I would throw you out myself! THEN, turning, wanting Cate Blanchett to play this person… she would LOOK at my apartment, not LOOKING at it, “what the fuck is going on?”
“WHY are you living like this?”
Time to go home. We gotta regroup. Time to talk to Dad. I’m in socks. “Okay, well,” scratching my head. “You know, um, let’s just deal with it… you need a psychologist…” and it will all be alright. I didn’t think that I was THAT bad, if you would, like I just needed the right therapy, the right reframe, I don’t think that I needed to drown in my feelings? As this guru, which was so stunning, considering him, thought I was repressed? And now, I don’t know if I was repressing sexual abuse, you see, so thank you, once again, for getting involved… and speaking to me indirectly… about not being fed or nourished as a baby… child? I can’t follow.
AT ALL.
GUESS WHAT?
Aviators coming off. Brad Pitt, a true psychic, having picked me up somewhere back there on the field of dreams, truly, um… with me. YOU’RE NOT PSYCHIC. THAT WAS A REAL SHITSHOW. So, I don’t know, I hope I’ll soon get over these raw moments, just because I feel like I need to — get all this out… and I’m repeating myself because I still swing around… like was this okay? Am I supposed to remember the GOOD TIMES? I cannot tell you the pressure all this put on my heart. This guru I mean, this relationship could have killed me, and it’s like, DID HE SEE WHAT HE WAS DOING? And I got out of the hospital, having been farted on? And this guy, this guru, who I hardly spoke to during this time, tells me (picture me on the floor, needing to move, wincing, because I have too many sensations down there…) that what I went through reminded him of CARL JUNG’S THE RED BOOK?!
Bring me Benedict Cumberbatch. Let him BLOW this man away in a British accent. We will begin softly and end as GANDALF basically, if we must. Imagine?
UM? IN THE END this guy says, “I’m concerned,” when where was that REPLY THROUGH THE MONTHS it took me to GET there? This man was insane. I want to slap him across the face. Carl Jung’s The Red Book. THEN I HAVE A BEST FRIEND STILL WITH MOVIES IN HIS FUCKING FUTURE? JESUS CHRIST, can’t you picture Adrien Brody being — utterly amazed? “You weren’t even in film!” I went through years of agony… just utter agony… not understanding what hit me, needing to STOP blaming myself, going, to my socalled best friend’s friend, “um should we be worried, as he said he wanted to KILL a politician…” am I mad? He said that! That’s not a joke. Jesus Christ. Now, if some dipshit, no offense, with the FBI behind me, and the CIA, if not PUTIN himself, told me that a drug addict is on a higher plane consciousness — I would not stand for it. “What the fuck are you talking about?!” It was an awakening for sure. Not a person to MOVE IN with, if you would. OBVIOUSLY. “As your manager” he said, imagine? I didn’t do anything that required a manager. I had to watch Dave Chappelle walking through middle America, JUST THE INTRO to the show. I couldn’t handle much else. He was walking without fear. And I was so afraid. Help. I clutched onto clip.
As your manager with a belitting hand.
And all I’m doing is writing a book… sure, I would like to… LOOKING AT ANYONE is Hollywood… any takers? Quick flash of the eyes. Make a movie, or I would love if my story inspired one, sure, that’s a common dream. But I’m not THERE… yet. I have to finish a book, and it sucked, it really did, to see that MAYBE THIS GUY had a PROBLEM with my success? And look, here’s a psychic reflection, so who knows if I’m right, I GET THAT YOU WERE THE STAR OF THE SHOW IN YOUR FAMILY WHILE BEING DISRESPECTED AT THE SAME TIME. I get it. Jesus Christ. I’m thinking about Sharon, okay, if I told her, hey, do you want to decorate this apartment, I’ll give you carte blanche, as this was a moment for me, even if it was stupid, look, the GURU around this time is telling me it doesn’t matter what the rent is… OKAY! Will Hunting hates this apartment, he hates everyone in this story. So does everyone else in his crew. WE HATE THIS STORY. I can’t pay you, but I can give you a budget? Maybe you can, I don’t know, like pitch it to a mag, or something, maybe this could help you…
What is she going to do?
And since our friend said, to me, years ago, he sometimes doesn’t FINISH what he started, I kicked him out. I didn’t give that much of a shit, and admittedly, I got WAY too sucked into writing… truly. I forgot everyone… practically, it’s really true. I got way too sucked in… I forgot life… I was vulnerable… I didn’t need to meditate or get obsessive… I wish that guru just stayed out of my life. I was trying so hard, all the while, feeling ridiculously confused, because this GURU acted as if I meant so much to him, or else WHY WOULD HE HAVE DONE WHAT HE DID, BE REAL, TO increasingly discover… he didn’t give a shit! THEN my mother — this whore, she gets wind of a MAG cover? And she tells her cousins about it? She can’t contact me directly though, I just want to RIP her face off. Then my EX bro, yo, tells me he’s in love with me — years before — like a crazy person, and then, he tells me he’s giving AIDS to people for ten years???????? He’s committing manslaughter in some states, and I get SHIT over a dog bite? Fuck all you.
Giving AIDS to people for ten years.
(Imagine me telling this to OBAMA? And then the guy… he tells me he’s giving AIDS to people for ten years after MAKING ME GUESS WHAT TERMINAL ILLNESS HE HAS… what’s the worst thing I could have? UH HUH? A tumor asshole that’s about to POP. Okay, what’s the second worst thing? HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, looking at PEOPLE, like, what’s the shame about it, SON? And this guru is laughing? I love how he told you he had AIDS… okay… I imagine the guru is such a different person with his family, not his brother, though, that they might not even be able to take in these words… so, he should know that he needs to keep his HYDE in check. Unless he’s open about his beliefs, the SETH books, etc.? But whatever craving he had to spread his seed?
This hurt me. It truly did. I did not want to get hurt. I didn’t know I could be hurt. Not really. So when this slytherin called, truly, after I left my job over racism… during the Floyd protests, which wouldn’t be that surprising, because it all came up, I found, the slytherin called me singing “Maria” from Westside Story? Eek. And he tells me he doesn’t want me to go through anymore pain. What pain??? I don’t know if I was repressed, exactly, as I’ve needed NOW to work THAT OUT, this guru, but I couldn’t idenitfy what my feelings were… perhaps. And this guru was he not repressed? Why is he breathing deeply and pointing at me and confessing his love as my father, or something? It was so gross! This guy was gross. WOULD ROLE PLAYING MY FATHER — some version of him — MAKE SENSE? Over a DVD? He looks like a psychopath. “You’re special,” with his disgusting emotional layering on, “and I intend to keep my perspective…” wow. Congratulations. You really showed yourself to be a bigger man. That man deserves it. He’s even ASKING for it.
I keep picturing myself in a good place. All of this… far behind me. I gotta go ry and look as good as I can. I gotta keep just picturing myself breaking through, making a splash even…and here we go… with my personality… making a splash, like, oh, what an interesting person… and I can’t help but say this… and I believe Will Hunting would be behind me, 100% — they all would. “Can you imagine, in the end, if it were true…?” And luckily now, these people, their voices are no longer in my body, telling me automatically that I am wrong… so, I suppose, looking out windows… thinking about Oprah… these people believed I was Professor X’s protegee and even Jesus Christ (Will Hunting laughing, truly.) “The guy, the Hollywood screenwriter tells me that I was divinely inspired because I was born to parents who were not there…” WHOOPEE CUSHION. “You see?”
“The prop?”
In this case, as Jesus Christ, the man confusing the Immaculate Conception, Mary’s conception by parents who were THERE, not JESUS, it had NOTHING TO DO WITH JESUS, GOD has a message — it’s called REALITY CHECK. YOU ALL ARE INSANE. WHOA. GOD can’t FOLLOW this shit. So sure — send in MARIA. Obviously! Have her… illuminate all this. REALITY CHECK. No? Getting a little weird down there. And you’ll always kill Jesus. WHY? I don’t know. This time I couldn’t be whiter! That’s the joke. Couldn’t be whiter. I was amazed. I really was. These were wisemen, apparently, and they owe me an apology. Maybe not so much the brother, though, I don’t get why he came in… when he’s NOT qualified.
I did not need HYPNOSIS.
I went through HELL, and no one gave a shit. I have an arrow pointed for sure. Trespass if you dare. The ghost of an actress is with me. And she’s going—strike. I have to laugh. This is she:
STRIKE.
I do not want to do dances… social dances right now… as Jesus Christ, I would rather speak about the issues. Right? And hopefully I’ll be in a cool outfit… and my Joker’s Daughter persona at times will make sense… because what do you do with all that? Most of the time, I do get excited about the road ahead, like, I have the rest of my life in front of me, looking at people who found love… again… so I’ll figure it out, I’ll keep figuring it out. Maybe it will be a Forrest Gump, where you have the cutest girl, really, I was a very cute child, hand up, leave me alone, who gets thrust on this journey… who makes these decisions… who comes to… dunno make it out of Wonderland. That’s what Hunting would see, Williams too, he would have made me laugh, as an audience member, making some kind of comment about it, cracking a smile. “Child molesters,” nodding. “How wondrous…” something. And the thing is, I don’t know what to say.
This specialist was like, I mean, she’s a delinquent, “dude,” like, she’s drinking, driving, and looking for sex downtown… and my father is leaving me alone with this person? I don’t know who, among them, and a judge would understand me, is the BIGGER LIAR. No one gave a shit about Hunting. I gotta deal with dances with wolves… ? In court attire? You know? What the fuck was this? I could marry above my station? Again, I got there. I was relatively fine. In France, I didn’t run into these people…but the clock struck twelve type deal… around the end of my twenties, which is when my life began to turn into the dark… with people — well intentioned! Bring in Dr. J, she ONLY had the BEST intentions — not understanding… and I’m not understanding… don’t go this way. I made my choices…
So now, I have to think about it as if I went on an adventure, and that I came out the other side, and I’m going to be able to talk about it. Shed some light. Something. Come into the fullest expression of self. That’s basically the plan. I just don’t know what that means. But I got a lot of plants. Good start. And I live in a small room in a nice apartment, it’s not mine, I have to start over… from the ground up. Step one problem, type deal.
In short, if someone else raped me, let me begin there, I would appreciate knowing so I could call this sexual trauma specialist to hear… there you go. As people admit it, he said, sometimes. I would appreciate knowing from Dr. Joyce Rebhun, my crazy ass mother, if that was true in any capacity, even about HER, imagine? Did you abuse me, lady? BLINKING. CASEY IS BEHIND ME. “WTF?” I’m clutching onto myself. Or were we, what? Blowing things out of proportion, my mother taking her breasts out? Now I’m picturing Dave Chappelle recounting this… somehow, in the midst of all this kid shit… rides and cakes… Michael Jackson whips out drugs…? I needed this man. How could I not laugh? I’m sorry. And I’m going, wait what? Taking out her breasts? In front of you?
OBAMA would be making SPEECHES. Appalled. Upset. Yes, angry. This word.
OKAY?
OKAY.
Now, since no one heard me.
Can you imagine… if you didn’t know if your parents abused you… sexually.
That’s a wrap, in Dave Chappelle’s words, that’s a wrap.
But there’s nothing I can do, right now, though maybe a cop would accompany me over to my mother’s house, and sit there as I confront this bullshit. My mother had enough run ins at the police, you know. SO, sick lady, was that true? And a COP will feel me on this one as we watch…. if she says yes? Is that true? People don’t know what a liar is. So that’s where I’m at with this act of lunacy.
SO if SOMEONE ELSE raped me along the way, please leave me note, as my Sunday School teacher invited me out to lunch, even, another twist there, as I was investigating the Catholic Church at the time so I volunteered to be his assistant… Amal Clooney getting scared… and he invited me out to lunch, and I went, imagine? And somewhere around salad, I went, why am I here? And the sexual trauma specialist is going to put a little check box next to that guy who then sent me a dozen red roses… to my house. Yikes. I got so scared. And of course this guy, this guy is going to tell me — OH I had the MESSAGE WRONG? Bring me Mark Wahlberg, okay? You sending his daughter red roses? Her teacher? HM.
I learned a lot about sexual abuse, in my short life. It certainly um, can “appear” innocent, sure. Amazing. Utterly amazing. I’m just saying, I could have been raped by anyone, according to him, except I can’t say anything… because I don’t know. I might not have been. So — that’s it. I figured in time, I might keep working that part out. But I might end up confronting Dr. J, if I have the chance, like, was that true? Don’t acting like a moron. My heart almost exploded, it felt that way. Anyway, the gory details aside, it’s a very different REAL story, isn’t it? Once you get the details. telling me that Angelica is an unreliable narrator… once I got these brothers out of my life… once I was able to STOP calling them… goodbye!!!! I had to just sit with these memories.
I suppose not being real about it, because the world that I moved through, sorry, it was also an obstacle, didn’t do me any good. I didnt have to sit there and put myself in a position, to have to talk about this! Why would I want to? Be real. With some dick from Hollywood? Wanting to get sappy? Not a good move man. He looks real bad, real bad. But maybe I’ll succeed in the world… still. So there, I know I can, I see enough people out there, living long lives, finding new chapters, love, all that. So, I keep my mind on that. I just don’t know how exactly I’m supposed to LOOK back on these relationships?
You just wanted to HELP me? Was that it? And there all I find is silence, here, with myself, which is satisfying. I don’t know, I felt like I had to stand up to my entire life, like I’m the one in charge here, I am the authority, not YOU. On my life?
These are my thoughts today. I need to redo my audition tape because I realized last night that I didn’t follow the logic, that’s key. I didn’t quite understand the scene yet. So I gotta do it again. I hope I get it. I’m confronting what you’d expect, which is the line between cariacture and character, trying to be funny, trying to play genre.. all that. So I keep watching myself, and I keep trying to learn, as ACTING is a craft, like I get I was a sweet performer as a child, but I never really did it for real. So now, let’s see what I can do. Right? As I came out… not knowing what I am doing with the rest of my life. I don’t want to go back to school. I don’t know what to say. I just can’t go back to school. So that doesn’t feel right to me. Maybe that will change.
I have stories to tell, the guru said, which is, sure. But what am I supposed to say, that I was a clown? Think about that. Though as an arc, maybe, yeah, we’ll see. I keep thinking about a book, and I hope it will be great. Moving, all that. Maybe telling my cousins this story, at one point, just because the family story was so confused, maybe that will end up being a good suite… very moving because I’m dancing through life, as the Brazilian mother taught me to, in a sense, I’m laughing. cheering, celebrating… with an eye? A clown in a sense, I was out of the box.
But when you know… what happened, when you have context, that Christmas wth these people, my physical language, it makes sense. And here comes some line of “other families…?” And they, even, are going to “take me in,” amazing. They’re going to get parental one me, giving me some speech about how I was a kid once, when any one of their children, if they were in this situation, they would understand —like, I’m not a kid, I wasn’t ever your kid, I get that I was there once…
And there, I’m supposed to meet these people, right? That’s the story. In seeing myself as one, once? As a good one? As that was his line… as he saw that I didn’t SEE myself as a good kid… in the Neapolitan. So there you go. And now, I have to think, is that true? Did I not see myself as a good kid MARIA? Since people projected all over me… I would have needed real time to work out how I actually felt about things. I don’t know if I was repressed, and I don’t understand, if you think that FEELING, the guru, was my primary language? Another one of…his comments…why you would suggest all these things indirectly. The theme here is nourishment. DUDE, that’s not the theme, though I’m sure the COPS or social services would have checked out the fridge. They’ve been in all types of homes, I imagine.
I don’t know. I can’t answer that question. I don’t know how to answer that question. Did I think I was a good kid? Well, I think I tried to reject Angelica Leibowitz on principle, didn’t I? Amazed. I couldn’t help but see systemic injustices… and I didn’t have to look that far. Original sin? Okay. Illegitimate babies? That one I repeated many times to myself. Illegitimate babies? You blame the baby? Uh huh. I was — thinking that sounded insane. So my mother reflected very true things about the world, there are totally insane ideas out there. But I was a piece of shit to her, and she can take her excuses and shove it, basically. I suppose that affected me. But did I think I was a bad kid? Well, shit got fucked up, sure. So I’ll leave it at that.
Shit most definitely got fucked up.
The disbelief was particularly harrowing, like I had to clap TINKERBELLE for myself with people also denying that they didn’t believe me, because no one is actually evolved, flashing eyes at Obama, on that one. No one says, you know what? You’re right, I’m sorry. I don’t know why that story continued to hurt me, and I can’t imagine, really, with racism, just what people have had to endure, okay? Just microaggressions, um, I don’t know, because I found… to make a small parallel, to discuss architecture a moment, okay? It’s like the protests, immediately, boom, in my world, there’s a defensive response. Did I use WHITE too many times for you? Sorry. Did you say something about we’re all in it together? Can you also be ANTI RACIST? Yes. And I felt as the STUFF came up, as I took steps, yeah, on social media, who cares, it’s a TV channel, to step into the world… that I kept feeling knocked down… as if the world is designed to defend itself, on some level.
So I say that, not knowing if that relates, but I found this part… to be… confusing. Is there something wrong with me talking about where I came from? Publically? Am I not supposed to stand in it, with pride? You see what I’m saying? I found that hard, that part, just the defense. Maybe a person of color might be able to relate, though I can’t comment on that phrase, as I’m referring to slavery. A demographic. I mean with how the system defends itself. I didn’t understand, in my case, personal, why you’d defend the old story… so I hope the personal might reflect the political, I don’t know what to say, when I read that we’re all getting molested… in the NYTimes?
I had no one through that. I got over it. I found kindness from a directing professor. “Have you ever felt really alone?” Yes. I have actually. Have you ever felt alone with someone else? Yes, that too. I’ll get to something good, I’ll get to a good book. One I hope that Obama will read. I read his list. That’s my goal.
But I imagine that life still feels like life, on the other side of that, too, so if there’s anything I can say, it’s that, you’re still building your own life… and everyone makes their choices, but I’m alone, right now, 39, I don’t have a boyfriend, I don’t have a house, and it turns out these elements, to me, are what I wish I had, before the glitz and the glory, the phone calls from Tom Cruise — flipping out. OMG THIS STORY!!! I have to laugh. The SUITORS lining up, in Field of Dreams, like the line of cars… coming to date me. Okay, I’m here. The woman of your dreams…? Well, first sentence, “I was in a little sex scandal…” it began there. so I’m letting go… of… making it, though I’d like to, and trying to enjoy life, though I feel the — you know, the fatigue, of another restart, this time, it’s bulky, the bare bones, like laying down a foundation, like, I’ll get some rest, I’ll get stronger, I’ll keep going.
I suppose I could take it into a What Dreams May Come direction — where the real story might inspire stories of pirates… with the ghost of Barbara Harris… behind me… with an eye patch. On this ship. Maybe I’ll play some warrior, I don’t know, I hope I’ll get there if I can. That would be fun.
But first, I gotta do a self tape. I feel like posting the one I did, for laughs. I’m funny, I think, but I gotta get to logic. Maybe it’s okay actually. I can’t tell. I would do it again and play it a little differently, like the second draft, you make it seem like you knew what you were doing all along — because I actually like this script. This father and mother could be on a sitcom. She’s scrolling through mom influencers on her phone, and I think I did a good job, actually, and the character is: she can’t tell her child that Santa isn’t real… she can’t do it. She’s franctically trying to bake this woman’s cookies… the husband comes home, makes a joke about the TO DO list, the very long to do list that she’s franctically referring to…
She turns, ready to kill him. I did a close up. He retracts quickly, “is it the santa thing?” He hates Santa to begin with! “It’s more than that, you know it is…” He goes, “Are you on Mom Tok?” Or whatever, again? I’m saying that SHE GOT SPONSORED. THE COOKIE RECIPE WENT VIRAL FOR A REASON, but it’s a bitch to replicate! And then he wants to get dirty, sexual, and he pulls out a J, as in a joint. I laughed, I really did. I might just send it, I just dont know, I might just chose another take. But I watched Brit Lower, she really did her self tape, so I tried to follow her example, a close up, and a wide shot, I tried to really do it, put my hair in a braid. I cooked for 12 minutes and then cut…I think my death stare to him was good. I had fun. And whenever I do it like Barbara Harris, I go, yeah, that might be it. I’m going to use another take. This is good, I think. Wish me luck.
You see? Redemption in storytelling. Let’s see if I can get into something by the end of the year.
