Okay, I worked for no reason this evening, and Diane Keaton died, which somehow brought my own mortality to startling light. Not that I’m close to her age, but she’s someone I grew up with, so I took a deep breath, for whatever reason, feeling both futile and free. Who cares what happens? Do whatever you want. You have one life. Forget the past lives, parallel lives, all this crap I absorbed.
Some of us will be remembered. Time has its way. We’re here for a moment. Get out as much as you can out of it. Go after what you truly desire. Never, do as I did, and listen to some stupid professor — anyone — it’s not their life. Their opinion doesn’t matter. In fact, if you take a good look at your close relationships, because holy moly, I did in retrospect, think about it: is this a good idea?
I’m feeling the consequences of my choices this evening. Speaking to no one. Wanting to throw something at this guru I met — this Hollywood guru, a Hollywood screenwriter who acted like a total idiot. That relationship, that whole decade, destroyed me. That guy had some nerve. Getting involved in MY personal life. Did not know the guy,
So I’m applying for jobs, with my hands up, in a state of unknown, because what was the trajectory of my career? I hated that I listened to these men —because WHERE do you want to end up? Fuck some guy who wants to jack off on me. That was a pointless decade. And now, I have no idea what’s next. Where do I want to go? I didn’t really want to be a writer. Not as a job-job. I didn’t have any direction. No, I was just writing a book about my childhood, I wasn’t seeking to get wrapped with some arrogant Hollywood screenwriter…who got unnecessarily involved. It was not necessary. It wasn’t sensitive or thoughtful at all. He’s New Age, out there, and I got wrapped up in someone I wish I never did. It’s like the opposite of missing someone, it’s like being haunted by someone, and wanting nothing more than them leaving your memory. I would, in all seriousness, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind this person—erase him completely. I would erase the plant people too. i would erase the whole decade. I can’t do that, so I have to, I guess, alchemize these experiences, or just move on. Now, I feel confused, because I wasn’t looking to go on and on and on with this person about all this… and I tried to talk to him about writing, because that’s all he seemed to be interested in—just being there for me as a writer, but that’s not what he did. He wanted to act like a psychologist guru?
I don’t want to write about family. That wasn’t my life idea, as he was obsessed with this idea, that your life is your idea. You are what you do, I think. In a sense. I didn’t sign up for all that. I was just a young woman at a cafe, and I think he was attracted to me and didn’t know what to do, unless he roled played my father while confessing his love to me, “YOU HAVE MY LOVE,” like, I didn’t see this person as my father. That man was sick. I was in a different… world than he thought I was? I peer back through this, and go, wow, that guy, for being a psychology expert, which he presented himself as, he was terrible. He presented himself as NATURALLY gifted at psychology, even superior, with otherwordly beliefs he would never have the guts to admit he has, such as being able to receive downloads from other times…? Just stuff I did not need. Like, it’s cool, maybe, for a fiction, or some story — but in real life, what exactly was this other than masterbatory? It was one big WANK off with this guy. And now, sure, maybe see you in a month or something? I don’t need to get that involved. Or two months. He wasn’t that pleasant to talk to. I did not have a fun time. That wasn’t that enriching, as an experience. I look back at who I became in that exchange and I cry and cry and cry — I have only one life, why did I waste my time?
There was nothing wrong with me! So WHAT? Who gives a SHIT that I was “given away by my mother,” when President Barack Obama? Sitting in front of me, just please. “What do you MEAN she LIED about him being a child molester???” Look, Obama isn’t going to disrespect me, he’s going to suggest I find the right person to work out that sentence. I HAD to insert President BARACK OBAMA into these situations to SEE them clearly, truly! And to laugh, because Obama would never suggest that I be here…at STEP ONE. AT STEP ONE, he’s telling me — turn back. I assure you. I could drive President Obama to these locations, and he’s going to use his own spidy sense, yes, and he’s going to say, “I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Forget what happened next. I wish I was never here. I’ll sort out the questions I have, and I know there’s a version of my life right now that can go really well…
Anyway, I SEEK to deliver yell at this man. It bothers me he’s driving around in her white BMW, going to BEL AIR, because he ACTED like a fucking psychologist, and I almost DIED. That relationship almost killed me. I came from a background, asshole. When you have maladapative patterning, I’m telling you, because at least, that’s something I can see. Trauma? What trauma? I can’t relate to that, was I abused? I don’t know. I’ll keep going on THIS journey, because that might be a book, too? Maybe I can sell two books, we’ll see. Buckle up. Because, that was a nightmare. I can’t even deal with myself, back then, and I’m applying for any job right now, anything that gets me out of this restaurant, and I like them, they treat me well, it’s not that, but that’s not where I want to be, and if I were to use that to make extra money (until I figure out a better way) that’s fine, as I’m probably going to have to take a couple of steps. THIS NEW AGE GURU’S VOICE IN MY HEAD PLAGUED ME LIKE WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT? Doing WHAT? Limiting the possibility that PRESIDENT OBAMA might be able to HAND DELIVER ME 500k in cash in a box? You know? Anything can fall from the sky, but what kind of way of LIVE is that? This person was an ogre.
Sipping my coffee. About to move onto my “serious work,” my essays.
Like, President Barack Obama, he’s going to hear me when I say, I was in a sex scandal. Imagine? I texted this so-called friend in the middle of the night, for me, as I went through utter agony, and he texts me? No one calls me? Barack Obama? Michele Obama? I’m pretty sure they’re getting on the phone with me. I’m almost positive they’re not going to TEXT their FRIEND over something like that. And you see, with the plant people, I got this threatening message in the middle of the night after I asked for my money back (thugs) and I can’t explain how I received this, as I was under significant psychological pressure (structural) it drives me nuts with this subject, that people don’t understand what it is, and I lost sight of it myself. I had a life where I had NO idea HOW I got here. NO idea. WHO is this? This is not me. I know people had rude awakenings. I know that. But this albeit empty threat through my website, I received this message physically in my gut. (My physician only cares about location, running tests.) And by the way they reacted, sorry, but the sexual trauma specialist thinks that they sent it to me. “What the HECK is even GOING ON?” I’m speaking to him on Friday by the way. He had to prepare for a case, interesingly enough, though that’s all I know, obviously. And my friend took a turn into the dark — so.
I did not need help. I was thirty. And interestingly enough, none of these men thought about talking to me, I mean, if they were interested in helping me, for real, about money. Like, Obama, even if he is rich, would never look at me and say, you don’t have money, he’d say, probably, you’re not looking at this correctly. No, you don’t have MONEY, in the sense, why are you acting like this? But you have money, that you want to grow. You know? So I gotta start over and impress Obama, essentially, with how I turned my life around. This is the objective —impress people. Like whoa, you really turned that around, and fast! I keep Tina Turner in mind, just because she was in a terrible relationship, one that almost killed her, and she — despite the odds, flourished later in life, her 40s. She had 30 cents. She had advantages over me, such as, she was already Beyonce’s hero, but that doesn’t mean I can’t rise through the ranks. A bat out of hell.
The Joker’s Daughter, coming with a team of seagulls playing like mad off a ferry in Istanbul. Darting in, their little wings, with the Batman soundtrack in their heads. That ride really healed me, my body was such a mess. I couldn’t believe this guy, he was the worst friend I ever came into contact with. I don’t know what to say, it’s going to take me some time to unpack that, because that relationship disturbed me so deeply, and I didn’t understand that, so I kept going back, “you create your own reality,” I was a mess. I cannot even believe he said to me what he did. He should look at himself in the mirror. I was not a video game. I just can’t. I can’t quite deal with these all being men, either, who were deranged geniuses, even, as my mother was, I don’t know what to say about my father… and wow, my friends, they really don’t get it. Do I want to catch up? Hm, let me dial in Michelle Obama: not really. I do not know if I was abused by this person, which is terrible enough. I do not want to play SOCIAL GAMES. Not right now. Not unless I’m dating someone, but that’s separate. OKAY? Sorry. THAT sucked for me. Really. Imagine? “Do you want to catch up?” With some casual high pitched tone? NOPE. I suppose I’m almost at the point where I can, because you have to get over it, regardless, but I’m starting over from scratch, after coming back to the USA, sorry, and getting DIRECTLY sucked back down this WEIRD help track that did not exist in other countries.
But, my cousins in Italy, they show what a headfuck this story was, and all I had to do was say “no, fuck you,” actually. I had to get angry, get normal, in that, people defend themselves, people protect themselves, people aren’t concerned about not hurting someone, I can’t explain this complex. AND? I overreact? So what? I mean, normal shit. This guru was in outer space — shoving THEY FEED YOU down my throat, imagine? THEY FEED YOU THEY FEED YOU THEY FEED YOU. This guy was — a total lunatic. In Bel Air. Glad you, uh, made a couple of movies, asshole. Yikes. It was, he was so unreal, you know? Lifting his arm like a guru…? In Beverly Hills? Pointing at me… like, why are you doing that? WHAT makes you so wise? Don’t you think the Dalai Lama would agree? Right? It sounds like a joke, which sucks. “You do not have to manage the shift in reality.” It was my FAMILY you insensitive twat. He’s someone I want to curse at, I mean, I want to rip him to shreds. Turning to me in Beverly Hills, and telling me Dr. J was SMART. Whoopee cushion, right there, it’s necessary right there. No no no. Mr. Ghomi, her stupid savior, business manager, no. He did not save her because she was smart. He had matters he needed her to take care of, obviously. Tax-related. And nothing about that woman, I think, was smart. Wrapping your daughter in a sex scandal, sorry, cancels out the whole equation. Simple math. Ridiculous.
And now, I feel real, in that, yeah I was in a sex scandal when I was four… which was the glaringly obvious point that no one got.
Just, why this guy got a hard on, over that story, I don’t know. My friend who introduced me to these crazy people, who cares if they are rich, she gets invited out to Bel Air once a year by his sister, chill. She takes her around, buys her clothes, and shows her a nice time, I guess, as she’s a family friend of hers, but not me, no, I got this cheap mother fucker with haughty taughty secretive MANIFESTATION power, or knowledge, just a waste of my time. He’s not doing that to my friend, an ARTIST? He’s not talking exclusively about MANIFESTING. ABOUT CREATING YOUR OWN REALITY. I was VULNERABLE, he was right. What he did was — not okay.
So anyway that’s my outpour this morning, and I keep coming back to wanting to fulfill my greatest potential as I don’t quite know how to turn the wheel right now. I keep feeling better, basically, sort of contending with my childhood, not understanding why this guru was so obsessed with it, so obsessed with me becoming famous because of a sex scandal? And if it was ME, then why did he seek to change me? Meaning, if I was admirable, WHY did he GET INVOLVED? You see what I mean? He was a real idiot, for being a genius supposedly, honestly, because it was a sex scandal, you idiot. Humility 101, you should take the course. So, okay? I’m on social media… as he suggested after I got out of a hospital, and he’s number one on my shit list, and I’m putting that story out there… I’m putting myself out there. I thought comedy might be an avenue for me, I don’t know, that story, sort of wishing that I wasn’t here. I wasn’t THAT obsessed with it. No offense, but these trauma avenues, um, looking at the guru, like you got problems dude, that was a weird fetish, that I SYNCED up with, but I do not identify with, meaning you misread me. I was a vulnerable person. You got TOO involved. You were wrong, basically.
But, okay, I’m Lady Gaga, he believes I could be Madonna, basically. Okay, well she’s a performer, entertainer. He believes I could be the Madonna of writers? Okay, let me call the New Yorker and have them crack up at. that statement. “What does that mean?” Let me ask Joyce Carol Oates, “what does that mean to you?” I feel like I’m sorting through the mess in my head, thinking about death, like, making videos on social media, doing anything, really, there’s nothing wrong with it, if this is a passage, or if it leads to something… it’s fine to experiment a moment, and everyone shares their story on social channels, but probably people with heavy duty backgrounds will understand (NOT THE GURU TELLING ME I WAS DIVINELY INSPIRED BECAUSE I CAME FROM PARENTS WHO WERE NOT THERE) how triggering that suggestion would be.
But, I was thinking, I wanted to perform, see if there was a way… I needed to settle a score with myself, since I came to the other side of this afraid that I was going to regret my life. That’s your legacy, looking at a NICE guy, just a NICE guy, I’m currently dating. He said, briefly, respectfully, he noticed what I was doing, shrugging, it might be heavy, but whatever….? Ground floor. Good. Progress. I don’t need someone getting WRAPPED UP, not SEEING THEMSELVES. YOUR FEELINGS. NOT MINE. So I’m going to keep going, I’m going to move into the next phase, which is, rehearsal time, absorbing Brazilian women time, bringing Angelica Leibowitz to life. I need to work on comedy material now, move that forward, that angle… so I know exactly what it is I’m doing. Alright. And that’s it.
In the meantime, I keep trying to figure out the basics, but in a way that’s, yes, clever, yes, fulfilling, it’s just, writing, at least up to this point, hasn’t exactly worked, because I wasn’t thinking. I was thinking I might start a beauty channel, because I like trying out products, affliliate marketing. Something. My Big Sister of America gave me that “homework.” I don’t know if I needed to write about family, though I’m thinking about writing about psychology? I don’t know how to tackle that, a personal essay, yeah, something. I’m working on three things right now, so I’ll keep trying. A scene with Barbara Harris will be published soon in a journal. That’s all well and fine, but it’s not necessarily helping me, getting published in major outlets might. Not to say an agent can’t stumble upon it, I don’t know, but I have to figure that out, or grow — it’s just, typically sex scandals don’t inspire people to want to come closer… so I have to…
I just, no offense, didn’t want to be in this position. Where this is all I got, which it’s not, but — I’m going to have to keep moving through this. Keep figuring out… avenues that will treat my experience with respect. Where I can give back, too, and I can “be amazing,” as this guru knew I COULD be, if I CHOSE to be, which was — as Professor X’s protegee, as he believes I am as well, I’m sending this guy lasers shooting out of my fingers. Like run. Mark Wahlberg is my spiritual advisor, you see, on my entourage, lol. A dream of mine. He’s telling these Hollywood execs, Ari, “she’s going to call…” watch. He’s wearing prayer beads. I need a spiritual advisor, who is going to bring Hollywood to a better place, spiritually, yes. I’m not that person anymore if that makes sense, meaning, misinterpreted. I needed a second to figure out how I felt about something, it wasn’t that complicated, though maybe, ooooo, wow, at times, I could say, “is someone upset in this room?” And someone is. I feel ANGER. SO MUCH ANGER. Jesus. And I don’t think, Wahlberg shifting in his chair, as he is present at all functions I am at, encouraging me to develop, speak my feelings, for us all to accept this part of my “gift,” and use it for “growth,” deeper “connection,” lol. I’m laughing. “OKAY,” I’m having a hard time with it. But again, my look has changed, I’m older, I don’t know if I give off the same vibes… but, that was the idea… I don’t know why.
But, I’ll keep going. I don’t know what else to do if that makes sense. I wasn’t expecting to bring up…. what I did… but I hope there’s a bright pot of gold, greener pastures, real success in it, so I can look back at people and say, man, I really didn’t think I was going to be able to BUY A HOUSE, like that. I was going to be able to succeed. I didn’t think I had a problem with it, but my problems were obvious, that story being one of them. Like go away. Looking at Barbara Harris, Mark Wahlberg is able to sense her presence, lol, “yes,” maybe Matt Damon as well, only because MEN saw the truth, you see, when it came to my psychicness, my shaman-ness. Peopl believe I am a shaman, of some kind. A spiritual leader, medicine man. And I have Barbara Harris with me, as I needed an actress to help me through the last leg, the worst of it, and it worked, that’s basically it. Time for lunch.
So, off I go, I have to find a better job, now that I’m thinking SKILL, okay? the two fingers at my temple might be a compelling move as Professor X’s protegee, brought to vivid feeling because of the real headfuck I have been through, as a “psychic” who can read MINDS, sure, but more like time travel, the details would need to be worked out, but in real life, SKILLS. What are my skills? Attracting weird dudes, GARY IS blurting it out FIRST while passing me CHEAP BEER at a goddamn Yankees game. “You definitely have a talent.” I laughed, I had to. “Weird men,” his steel blue eyes. “WEIRD MEN.” That’s my friend. A guy friend. Simple. He has a FEMALE boxer, you see, a FEMALE boxer. That’s basically it right there. So I’m trying to get a job as an assistant, as I like taking care of people, I think I’d be good at that, a second, something that requires that I be in a physical location. I will apply for reporting positions, I guess? In terms of writing jobs, I don’t know what to do… what I want to do. I’ll see if I can break any ground with my personal life…
My friend is a successful writer — he heads a department at a mag, he writes books, you know, it’s not to say I couldn’t find a niche for myself that factors into a WHOLE, I just don’t know what that is. But I’m going to try and get craft, as my Big Sister of America would say, a Jennifer Aniston-type, or she would be played by her, as she wondered who she’d cast as her, and I said that, finally, because Aniston would capture her humor well, and Linda Barnes, her name, is sort of perfect. But she just told me to try and figure out if I can make money online, since people do… it’s taken a second, as it does, as I’ve been researching… I don’t know how to capitalize on my experience? So I’ll see if I can do something there. I want to develop a character, in aviators, it’s sort of gold, as a color scheme, of me being a call-in psychic. Phone, 1800-Im-psychic, you see? And I do my work, my real work, wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, and I’m USING the space, space speaks, as “things come up,” I will be guided BY my superiors, spiritual superiors, to the RIGHT FRAME that will speak to you. So, if I’m at the Farmer’s Market, we’re in chaotic territory… but the apples right now are REALLY POPPING OUT.
And why?
Are you in fairytale land? With this guy? Are you getting back to basics? Do you need to bake a pie? Which one is it? And then, yes, we had a breakthrough because of the apples. I knew, I know, sitting down, so we can UNPACK what just happened. “It’s important to understand that your mother is not really a witch, okay? She’s someone who looks like one, maybe, she can act like one, but in the end, this rivalry between you is just cartoon, you know, it’s no really real. See if you can break new ground with her, by changing YOUR alignment, YOUR POSITION, try a 45 degree angle, for real, approach her AT A NEW ANGLE, THINK ABOUT IT.” That’s a goal of mine, okay? NOW, look, I’m in PARAGON sports, next call, ugh, here we go, this person. “Uh huh?”
“You haven’t stopped talking for 23 minutes.”
“Okay,” picking up the phone, I’m on a date. “You have RESPECT ISSUES, NO NO NO NO NO. I’m SICK and TIRED of YOUR PROBLEMS. The problem IS NOT OTHER PEOPLE, I ASSURE YOU. IT’S YOU.” Standing at a glass facade, somewhere expensive. “What I’d like you to REFLECT on,” literally, is your own image ON A CITYSCAPE, literally, meaning, YOU’RE A PERSON IN A SEA OF PEOPLE. THINK. THINK about THE CHOICES you’re making. I’m not even going to bill you for this shit.” So that’s me, very successful call-in psychic business. I’m Dakota Fanning’s funny friend. We’re actually on a friend date. “Absurd, ANYWAY.”
So we’ll see, Barbara Harris is assisting me with all this. I feel good about that one, I’m just going to have to get someone to film me, and it’s not that hard. From afar. Up close. That’s it. From down low. “HEY…” and I’m coming out of the gate thsi time, “PUNCHY YEAH, because why the HELL are you STILL THERE????” She doesn’t know, “RIGHT!!!” And “what’s your name again, excuse me, because I’m in the moment, I get downloads, this quickly, yes. I’m frustrated already with you. You wanna know what’s wrong? The entire idea…” and where would I be? Bank of America? the ATM? I’m just getting calls — I’m just living my life, and you call me. Staring at ESPRIT on Broadway, over it. “It’s time to get concrete here.” then I’m going to locations to meet up with friends… “someone’s about to call me,” I say, “I feel it.” Here they are… I just pick up… so they can meditate on the sounds of a bustling restaurant. “Hello?” I’m not responding.
Hm, hm, for your own good.
Later we can unpack that, “what happened… when you heard the noise? What was your thought process?”
“Abandoned? Confused?”
“Okay,” later, by candlelight, in my apartment, “yes, did this help you to face the demon so YOU. can make NEW choices?”
Anyway, stuff like this makes me happy. “Look,” in an office, “you’re getting married, we’re talking about something basic, here, relax, everyone gets divorced, hunny, just go through with it, and see what happens…” rolling my eyes at this person. “Will it work out? That’s what YOU’RE CALLING ME for? Do I see a future? Well, you’re going to have to SEE it, you see, so what do you see?” All I see are WAYS child, WAYS, many streets, many directions. So why don’t you pick one?”
“Okay, we got through it.”
“Now go get married and be happy for once in your life.”
Hanging up. “Jesus.”
And there, the psychic looks out the glass… full of feeling, she doesn’t know how she got here (Barbara Harris laughing) at this serious moment of inward reflection. She shakes her head at her, that, lol, her dead companion. Distracted, “yeah?” You need that, obviously. That moment, when the reality of this person lands, no? I love my psychic, my call-in psychic. I’ll work on that.
“Hello WHO? ME? PSYCHIC? WHO TOLD YOU? HOW DID YOU GET MY NUMBER???” AGGRESSIVE. “You need to grow a pair of BALLS. First point, OF COURSE I AM CORRECT.” Grabbing broccoli. “It’s a root problem,” smiling, because it’s SO on the nose. A supermarket. I’ll work on that one. My head in my hands, spotting a Van Leewuen, “it’s just… it’s NOT ice cream, not the vegan kind, meaning, you’re not aware that this person is NOT who they say they are… they appear one way, and maybe they have some other hunnys on the side, yes, I think so, I’m getting that clearly… next time he says he’s going out with his friends, call me, we’ll follow him…”
And he’s going to be cheating on her!!!!!!
“FUCK TARD.”
“Caught you, asshole.”
“How confusing was that? I was looking at Van leeuwen, not knowing how it’s spelled even, and that’s what it was, this mother fucker is CHEATING ON YOU!!! He’s somewhere NICE, real NICE, HEAR ME, I can SEE THE GODDAMN LIGHTING. SOMEWHERE YOU KNOW, too. This asshole. I can’t SEE the location… but it might be near Union Square. EW! He’s THERE??????” I’m on the phone with her, supporting her through this. “YES, you’re going in. You’re going in…fuck that, I’m in a CAB… I’M ALMOST THERE, YES.”
AND TOGETHER WE’RE GOING TO — BLAST THIS “EX,” I’m signing it, I’m underlining it, AWAY. “Look man, I need a drink, that was one of the MOST confusing psychic experiences I have ever gone through, like WOW, that GUY was — a PROBLEM. HOLY SHIT. He’s going to call you, I assure you. Yup. NOPE. No. The answer is NO.” And maybe she’ll prove me wrong or something, as there needs to be other notes in this, I have to learn something, go on some journey. Anyway, that’s different. That’s not a bit.
“How do you do this?”
Stupid shrug, “DUNNO.”
“is it hard?”
“Oh very,” sort of tongue and cheek about it. “I cannot,” hands, “move through life normally, of course…”
“I can see into people’s souls, yes,” seriously, as the shaman told me I could. “I am a portal, channel, and antenna traveling on multiple planes of existence…” and yes, “i can speak to animals, but it’s residue from the 15th century, specifically…” UH OH, stopping short. “I’m getting a bleedthrough from…” squinting, “325 BCE.”
“So sorry…just so sorry about that…no I can’t, I can’t speak about it, it was a bad day…not an easy ERA.”
Suddenly British. “Ghastly.”
Anyway, I’m off today.