The woman who truly saved my life, in a real way. I appreciate her work so much because it was shocking, stunning, to see my life thus far through an Arendtian lens. And her work really nurtured me, she, I think, she would have been quite shocked by that premise. So her mother who is — running into church? “Accosting” the priest with her rapes? Every Sunday? This woman tells some hilarious Brazilian woman, which I have to say, because she was, and I have to punch holes in it, for relief, even, she tells her that her father is a child abuser, that he is abusing his child, and so, she agrees to protect her… and this is what happens… because both my parents were mentally ill, I mean, I don’t know where to begin there, I think her question of what happens if someone can’t appear in the world, as that story already wasn’t really SEEN, literally speaking, really struck me as a profound reason why I chose to live my life in the way that I did up until recently. I went onto a public stage, the comedy stage, partially to address that issue. And I battled with it, I do, I battle with putting myself out there at all, not like I HAVE TO, but I’m grappling with… the decision I made already to do so, not knowing WHAT I was coming up with… so I’m making peace with that, because it was a story that silenced people. And this Hollywood guru I met is calling me Lady Gaga, and shit, like I could MAKE it, in the world, for… a sex scandal? How strange. He didn’t HEAR what I was saying.
I had to laugh and insert COPS, sure sure, when reality comes knocking, these people, everything illegal that was happening, depending, becomes very clear. You know? A sex scandal, which I say because it was whole orchestration, with breasts at her door, I just — ended up swerving through this, and somehow thrusted myself forward into the seat of motherhood or parenthood — because it was psychologically necessary, in some capacity. Forget the wiseman. If anyone put my child in these circumstances, I would — that would be a dark day for you. Any child. I suppose when I was young, I thought, oh my God, what do children go through? So I don’t know what to say about that, but I had to stay focused, and just go, I had to totally destroy the premise, destory any concept that this was my fault in any capacity, that I should be grateful for this? That I should put up with any rudness at all, especially from Angelica. Okay, that was revelatory for sure, Arendt isn’t going to paint my pretty pictures around whether or not creulty exists, okay? She would never think that I was TRYING to compare to Nazism, just please. Just because people projected SO MUCH emotion onto me, just because the story was, what it was. I rejected sympathy, even, like go eslewhere.
So I’m home. I went to Times Square to see my old friend, male, at a diner. He told me to sit down, to talk with him, that he was going through a lot himself, that he wanted to be there for me, and I think I’m seeking real friendship, exchange, because the relationships I got into this past decade was bizarre, to say the least. Which he knows. And he spoke a while, I was happy to hear from him, and observe a person who was structurally sound, even if he went through a divorce, and his father just died, and he’s come to find that life totally changed, for him, so life is life. He didn’t shut me down. Jesus. He held my hand, he was there for me, and he both heard me and he also sought to relate, because the impulse, the natural empathetic response is to not allow someone to differientate themselves too much, when I do not know if my parents abused me, so the devastation I feel, or can feel, honestly doesn’t make me feel like relating.. so I can’t relate right now, only continue looking forward, though looking back, what a shock. A real shock. I suppose he was saying, there are “things he couldn’t do” back then, too, so he just wants me to be kind to myself. He has a career, money, kids, but he was so hurt by his wife, and he wonders why she did that to him, but he, I guess, doesn’t necessarily feel happier. I don’t know what to say, because I went through a whole world loss. Where I had to totally start over. What I want to feel NOW is fulfillment, gratitude, success, a house, a life that I recognize as mine. We’re both in sensitive places, so — I saw an old friend, one that didn’t really try to manhandle me, but tried to hold a space with me, and we do the best we can.
But yeah, devastated and what are you even supposed to say? With these idiot gurus, I mean, my friend, he’s a Tony nominee, he did not get wrapped up in this bullshit, I was vulnerable in a way. I spoke to him the most in college about that story, and it didn’t make sense, and it probably makes even less sense, just going through the pieces with him that were so vague and unclear, and they are clear now, and I don’t know if he’s geared to think about psychology, like when he’s talking to me, I’m literally seeing structure inside his eyes, like dividing, still intact, structure. I don’t know if he thinks like that, I do, I’m seeing evolution, someone who also, I think, at least, was trying to say, that he pursued worldly classic objectives: family, career, and he’s dealing with the meaning of it all, too, and I feel him, in that regard, and I can’t put my finger on it, exactly, but I’m reaching for — exactly I want. I don’t know what that means, but we’ll check in. Life is long, can be. He was very gentle with me, and I can’t really do that again. I can’t even talk about it. I don’t want this to be true, obviously, and all I can do is going down a list, see some specialists, and cross possiblities, and keep moving on. Hopefully, I don’t know what to say, because I thought — get on stage, make something with it, or figure out something to do with it, and I just have to keep detaching from a world that doesn’t believe I can, should, as that aspect of my thinking, like I should perform, or something, I don’t know, has caused me so much distress, that I’m full of rage, seeking to blast this out.
I don’t know what that means… but I just got an invite from Columbia to participate in a reading, so I’m going. I gotta keep going. I just don’t want to do that again. I’m seeking, that a fundamental difference be respected, that I don’t know if my parents abused me, sexually. I see ILLNESS, yes, but what the fuck even was that? Maybe I’ll get to a place where I’ll be able to be open to relating to larger mythic structuring, that we all go through an awakening, in a sense, as we continue to live our lives, it’s just, the content itself, is so disturbing to me, that I can’t go there. All I see right now, are crazy parents, and a FOUR YEAR OLD. When I get into that space, like I want to rip someone’s FACE OFF. I do not want a wiseman, you know what I mean?
My cousins, in Naples, I was amazed to discover, that my cousin, my age, which at the time was thirty years old, got together with his friends, his group of guy friends, to “cry together…” And I looked at him as if he had just thrown WATER in my face! “WHAT?” Yeah, nonchalantly, no issue with it, when one of them breaks up with a person, they get together, as men, and cry with one another. I was blown away. And they didn’t GET IT, like do you have balls? And at that point, it was two weeks into Christmas at least, I was surrounded by Christmas decorations at the Medici Castle, even, and I — BLEW. NO! And in Naples, you can, you can BLOW. I needed to give a SPEECH! The man ASKED ME if I had BALLS? Crying takes BALLS?
“Do men not cry together in America?”
I almost slammed this mother fucker Dino against the wall, who innocently asked me that question. “Are you for REAL?” The rage was real, the Christmas story developing, it was a miracle. It was a miracle. And I said it, at the Medici Castle. You know, when you just need to hold someone, because that, I’m sorry, it was a long time ago, it might have been a topsy twervy ride, but I just needed someone who could really receive that, and he did. At least. I think, generally, he’s trying to open up to new possiblities, I think trying to learn, and trying to move on himself. I didn’t get the impression that he himself was trying to ACT HAPPY, like he’s SUPER SUPER HAPPY, you know what I mean? So I’ll get out of that spot, and I’ll get into a rehearsal room tomorrow and begin becoming Angelica Leibowitz, as was my destiny. I’m laughing. I’m going to try. I might end up somewhere less autobiographical, I don’t know. I said I’m seeking a break, a big break, yes, in some capacity, I need my life to change… I need progress, real progress.
I met a guy. Just starting seeing someone. And that was the relationship, like, my friend, let’s call him Wilbur, which would make him laugh, though he sort of reminds of that Jamie, I think his name is, the hypnotherapist on social media who is dating Jennifer Aniston, though I don’t keep up with that stuff, but I had come into contact with him before that. He reminded me, not look wise, but energy wise of him. He’s not in that line of work. He’s a producer. And he’s got a theater, shows, he’s someone who’s done very well, I think. I admire him. I’ll go see the latest show, this is the direction I’d like to go in, simply. So it will be fun to check out what is going on, what he’s doing. You know, basic. The rest, the beauty of it, is, you just do what you do, and you take it from there, you allow what you’re doing to speak for itself. So, I’m going to work on things, and see what I can do, want to do, and hopefully, I’ll come to find that my life could look truly different, that I can — buy a house, have a career, I made my choices, and be able to say: wow, I didn’t even think that was possible, so — and I found purpose, success in it, though I still feel confused, because no one was hearing what I was saying. “I was in a sex scandal,” hands, shrug, I mean, “you could be famous…” hm? Or, was that because I was heautiful, talented, KIND, which one was it? I couldn’t evn FOLLOW the last ten years.
“OKAY.”
But at least I’m seeing creativity, in that, maybe I’ll try speaking in an accent, finding an accent to talk to you with, a totally foreign funny character, you know what I mean? I’m not necessarily trying to pretend I’m where I want to be, but I’m working with my experience to make something out of it, trying to, and I can’t speak to how real I feel, even speaking to him, and having someone else really take that in, what the story actually was, how strange it was, and the pockets of nonsense, where there is no sense, which I get frustrated with, like, I’m talking about not knowing whether my father abused me, please. Or someone, did, please. Someone telling me that I couldn’t forget that there were the ages between 0 and 4… peering at this man… needing Dave Chappelle, yes, the comedian…to receive that.
“I’m sorry?”
Not to help me make sense of it, but to simply hear… as a real thing someone told me.
“There were the ages of 0 to 4,” and in his mind, in my case, “the possiblities were wide,” that’s what he said. I could have been abused anywhere, beginning at the age of zero. “Okay.” Sure. I’m going to keep moving towards these lighter pleasing ways of dealing with it, which right now is presenting it — and I’ll take it from there. Hopefully, I worked out what I needed to, so I should see results in my life…but that requires a certain degree of clarity, simply thinking, such as: WHERE do you want to go? When it came to writing as a job, I didn’t think about that, as I was somewhat directionless, trying to take opportunities as they came in, so not in a position of pursuit, which I found, in my case, didn’t bring me anywhere… though yes, I am here, believing I should probably wear Alice and Wonderland dress… like, hello… I am here! Laughing. I came from Wonderland. My mother’s name is Joy.
So that will take care of itself.
I feel better now that I sort of wrote about that, as it’s better to just not talk about, but I suppose I admitted that I felt totally devastated, by the thought, looking at my parents, wanting to slaughter them, what the fuck was that? Maybe that was positive, and at least, again, I wasn’t shut down, manipulated, or looked through… as if what I said wasn’t real… and I don’t know about what it means to make a big deal out of nothing, but that’s a big deal, so dunno what to do about it, because “dancing strangely on stage,” I have to be okay, swimming, and also, moving like the Matrix, need to GO through it. Whatever this is, lol. Now I am happy because I’m thinking about ways to treat it, and move through it perhaps in a theatrical context, and so, I’m just going to take a deep breath, and keep going.
I’m trying to trust my feeling, my inner compass, having just come out of a decade of truly truly confusing factors I did not need, like psychedelics, psychicness, manifestation, or just strange relationships… the HELP thing, what a SHADOW that was. The story just brought me shit I did not need. Was I fed? Like, please, dude, Hollywood guru, why are you trying to convince me, indirectly, that I wasn’t FED as a young child? Will you please… go away? I did not need some wannabee guru.
I can clearly see my decision making, most definitely. Like, at step one, what the fuck was I doing there? To me, getting on a public mic, because this is the great clarifier, and SPEAKING about the guru, SPEAKING about the sex scandal, SPEAKING about the shit people really told me, that has become extremely clear in my mind — YOU know that you couldn’t SAY that in PUBLIC. So fuck off. I was trained by the Russians, yes, as a clown for the political arena.
“This is a political figure, first,” she explained with her baller neutrality. “Theater comes LATER,” she put that discrepancy aside, as the real life Andromeda.
My Russian mother, yes, okay? She saw me as a true clown, and a good one, and so, she trained me. I have Russian training, as a clown. She brought me to speak to a Ukranian refugee who had a hallucination on the run from war, she brought pro-Putin supporters into my house with newspapers, once he invaded, and they were on his side, to contend with. Hilarious, because I just went along with all this. Her lover, soul mate, which turned out to be my age, younger than she was, was a thief, a Robin Hood, Aladdin, Russian, so he laughed at that when I showed him these motion pictures, “look it’s you…” So I went on a particular journey with these people, where I befriended him, instead of turning him in, once change began to stir his pot… he’s going to leave that profession behind, the year I was invaded by the Russians. “Love,” Sonya is telling me, one evening, as if she were in a movie, she was so moving, she spoke of love, the force, that was the Russian way, to her. A martial artist, this woman, truly. She believe this was the way of a warrior, the way… love. Beautiful speeches. “We will not fight the next war…with weapons,” no, she dismissed this quietly, even, across the table, with her arms crossed over her chest, “but with love…” and what war? What did this pertain to? I called her “an oracle,” because she could… divinate, but we could talk… through my story… or she listened to me, as well, struggle personally, as I opened up to her, as we decided together that we would have an exchange, where I would listen to her, her wisdom, and she would open up to me, though she was a mother, older than me, so we had an age and experience gap, that’s all. She said, “you are an emotional being,” back then.
“Be cool, be neutral,” which was funny, “this is not without feeling,” and she made sure the difference was clear, “okay?” She could say “okay…” very instructionally, Marushka, as she called me that, and she was a maternal force, a maternal type, who was emotionally clean, grounded, and poised, so she would look at me, and it always made me laugh, when I would be… acting… out? She’s Russian. I laughed. “You are an emotional being,” that’s all she had to say. And I thought about America versus Russia. So we formed a little alliance, and she’d get sweet and clairvoyant about it, “with love,” this was her point. Love. And hilariously, truly, she believed in me as a clown, a true clown. A Russian knows what that is. I laughed.
“You do not take advantage of a clown,” no no, she shook her head. “You’re not supposed to do that,” she said, “it’s sacrireligious…” a clown is to be respected, so she respected me as one, I guess, as she started treating me as if I were important politically, so she brought me to the Ukrainian refugee, she brought me to pro-Putin supporters, she presented me the current state of GEOPOLITICS, she’s from Kazakstan, she made sure it was very clear, that is geopolitics, and these people all exist, so what will you do? And with the pro-Putin supporters, I sat there as they poured at me with their magazines (lol, Sonya, who also looked like a panther, watching me… ) and what I said, simply, in the end, as Sonya had to translate everything was very simple — do you believe in the transference of power?
Meaning, do you believe a person, a leader should step down… and pass it on… that’s it, that’s my only question here… is it good?
She said “A clown was very important,” and I asked, “why?” She said, “because you will bring the message to the people in their language.” I laughed, I did. So I found myself in this situation, lol.
A totally amazing story, hilarious. It sounds like a fiction, or that it could be, it sounds like a movie, truly. Like, the Joker’s Daughter — is going to be trained by the Russians, right? Of course. Even. She’s coming back with BRATAN, the thief, as her right hand man, though he disappears, and reappears. Right? I’m going BACK whatever that means, I’ll figure out the details later. But there’s a real idea there, in the Joker universe, funny enough, so we’ll see what happens.
Here’s the basic point. Here comes Hannah Arendt. “You are not a clown.”
I could become a clown, in a sense, professionally, but I am not a clown. I ended up identifying with that archetype very deeply for a while, which had to be corrected. I came from a background, my mother alone was super crazy, man, that woman was insane. But hopefully it will end up being a good story, so — it can just be what it is. I just wouldn’t DO this again, type deal. But I found myself in — a place, with people, in a position that I felt at that time compelled to pursue, and I hope I’m right. Just because Bratan, this thief, in particular, he was practically Biblical… picturing him running through the trees in a forest, as he crossed all of Europe on foot. A boy who had suffered a personal tragedy. A boy on the fringes, a thief, a good man. Maybe even extraordinary. Like, he’s going to the most dangerous gang’s hide out?
In Paris?
HUH?
In my kitchen the warmest shade of yellow, as I had picked out the color, specially, like I spoke about this shade of yellow for two hours at the “best paint store” in my neighborhood… these two frenchmen, they did not disappoint, really, because I walked into THEIR shop, and who are you? I need yellow, and they were like what kind of description is that? There are so many yellows… so many YELLOWS… and so, two hours, we discussed this yellow to a degree of depth that I wanted, this is what I wanted, and so, it was like an oil painting at night but pure, so I put a yellow lamp and shade, and everyone looked like a painting, just glowed, it was the warmest shade of yellow but NOT heavy, “no,” they dismissed that, these man at the paint store. “It would never be.” And my friend was there, so she can attest, as she cracked up at this exchange. We discussed how it would look in the morning, “in the afternoon,” I can picture her filling in, as she was my friend, so she’s supportive. It would follow the day to the point of “sublime,” it would be the most perfect yellow. And so, it was. Sonya looked stunning in it across my kitchen table, with her fiery green eyes, Asiatique, dark hair, she was lithe and lethal..
She told me that he was telling this gang to stop, what? I had heard of them because they had spilled above ground, they were crossing a line, murdering, raping, brutal. So he, she explained, was like “the underground justice keeper,” like, are you for real? “Yes, they have their own rules,” he explained to her. She had no idea what this world was, she wasn’t from the streets. And so, if justice needs a little maintenance underground, within that group, he handles it. “How is he…?”
“He’s,” simply, “going to tell them that they must stop.”
I nodded.
Someone else, as I asked around a bit, confirmed that these disputes, though I don’t know what to say, the police sometimes just let’s them handle it. Uh huh.
I was sitting there like, what? “This is what this guy is doing?”
That was the year I was invaded by the Russians.