I’m having a glass of wine in a glow, in my room, at the end of a shift. I’m almost at a clear head again where I can just write a sentence without “the future” or “the audience” channeling through my thoughts, as these gurus from Beverly Hills were obsessed with “the future writes the past,” which was damaging, even. They gave me channeler tapes. One of the exercises in these so-called Da Ben tapes was to reach out to your future audience. I’m already exhausted. The guru suggested downloading the information from the future to write the book with the desired outcome I’d like to have. I almost wept on the restaurant floor this evening, why? Why me? That’s exactly right. I wish the guru passed over, pass-over, please. I couldn’t meet a normal person, right? I couldn’t even believe how unlucky I was. Of all the people I could have met — I met these psychic men, only men. What a nightmare. I can’t change anything. I can’t change how I lived my life up until this point. so I don’t want to regret my life. It’s like the guru is a haunted house, like someone who causes me true horror. I did not need to get into a strange relationship with an older man. And here we go, again, I’m tired, that’s why. I ended up, right now, this evening, regretting ever taking an artistic track. Truly speaking. These men were so haughty taughty, like, I never ASKED to be the LADY GAGA or JOAN DIDION. Holy moly. ANYONE CAN BE THEM. Exhausted. The grad film scene I was supposed to do tomorrow got canceled last min, due to a need to change the rehearsal time, so I can’t do it. I have to work tomorrow. I had to remind myself that — it’s just like that, one min it’s happening, the next, it might not be. So that’s alright. It was a little disappointing, because I was so looking forward to it. Why did I create that reality, guru? Um, you know, I think it’s easier to chalk it up to a coincidence, that the film grad world moves extremely fast, so plans change, I don’t know if I need to take responsibility for — just life. But I guess that man was desperate for meaning, in some capacity. In general, I think no expectations is the best approach, where you’re just neutral — neutral. I just hate that I can’t write, anymore, without the future plaguing my thoughts. And to tell me that “I wanted this,” no, I did not. Many many many people would not agree with that ideology. Some might call it dangerous. I can’t. I got horror images of the guru, I had to keep evacuating this person out of my mind… I have no idea what I was doing generally. Why would I be here? I didn’t need manifestation help. NOW, yeah, I do, I guess. Just, the rudest awakening. I try to hold myself through these moments. I have to ask some psychologists about “the feeling drives reality…” I wonder what they would say to that. I, personally, suffer from that idea, because, no offense, you can put on a pop song 24/7, and feel elevated, uplifted, but that’s not driving your reality. And the part that really sucked, was there anything WRONG about how I was feeling? If it’s not BROKE, why FIX it? WHAT WAS — communicating, I hate this guy, that I needed HIS help? WHY? I eliminated ALL vulnerability. Eliminated it. If that’s what made me special to him, that has nothing to do with writing, I mean, sure, “she has an exquistely vulnerable voice,” that’s not the feedback I’m getting. If my PERSONALITY was my ASSET, why not just SAY that? You know what I mean? WHY is some FILM guy trying to help a wannabee book writer MANIFEST reality? Do you know what I mean? Why?
Anyway, I get frustrated when I’m tired. And, you see, shit happens. Stuff gets canceled, things get moved around, it’s probably best to keep a level head, about it, whatever it is. But no, PROJECT YOUR MIND to a FUTURE POINT, the POINT where the book is COMPLETE? And I wonder, is that how this man worked? He’d meditate on the final product? What I’m saying is, that didn’t work. Channeling information, yikes, did not help. That was totally insane, in my opinion. Out of ALL the approaches one could give, suggest, channeling was not what I needed. But these men, they didn’t come from my background. Like could you SAVE the controversy for someone who didn’t already come from controversy? Someone who didn’t come from a totally insane story. What SENSE does it even make to assume that something like this is a ONE SIZE FITS ALL? Since when? I hated this men, they were absolutists, in desire to parcel out advice that wasn’t asked for… I have my moments, what can I tell you, because “Everyone has a magical self, POKE,” as this guru “poked” the fabric of reality “sending ripples” with IDEAS such as magical self where events seemingly unfold, effortlessly, there are moments like that… he’s giving advice to someone who calls him, his brother gets a phone call from a crazy lady… I didn’t want to be apart of this weird group of people who called these men for advice, and it’s like, why? Why them? Who are these people? Geniuses? Well, so was Dr. J. The geniuses I met, in any case — came with weird shit.
I keep wanting to find whatever is going to bring me abundance and happiness. I hated that story, Miracle Mile, just hated it. It brought me nothing… but I can’t give up, have no idea what to do, because the decisions I made were beyond stupid. SO stupid. And I didn’t see it coming, and I keep trying to let it go… but I would suggest, before meditating, read. Just don’t write, even, just read for a while. “Practice writing.” I think about that suggestion and it sounded like a joke. Taking whatever job to practice writing… nothing I did brought me anywhere… like, a house. Like buying a house. I have nothing, at least, right now. That breaks my heart. I don’t have a house. I don’t have things. BUT OOOOOOOOO YOU'RE PSYCHIC. I felt like a joke. So I get sad sometimes. I was better off without the plant people, no offense, better off without the Beverly Hills gurus… so bedtime, another week at this restaurant. I don’t know what to do. I just can’t believe I’m here. So it’s another one of these nights. Where I regret everything. Where I just cry to this weird ass man who couldn’t keep it in his pants over my story. Like, haven’t I been through enough? Meaning, WHY did he come into my life? I didn’t ASK for HELP. He shattered my soul. He was a frightening person— to me. So maybe I’ll use him for this Moth night coming up, as he horrified me. The past, horror show. That relationship, I just — I sat down this evening, like, why didn’t you go out…and try to find a boyfriend? Make friends, normal friends? Look, even THEY, I THINK, would ADMIT that they aren’t normal — they aren’t normal people. So I grieve these terrible relationships. I really ran into trouble when I decided to write… I have friends, I’ve made friends, luckily, I always have them, but I did not build a life… I feel breathless sometimes not knowing WHY I was doing what I was doing. I never thought that I could ever feel as not special, ever feel so lost, not knowing what to do, because i wish I had a husband, a job that actually made me happy, this YOU’RE LADY GAGA shit — why? So, I’m just having a night. I’m going to go to sleep now and try to keep forgiving myself for getting involved with these HORRIBLE men. Writing ruined my life. That story ruined my life. I think back on my cousins, nightmare. What a nightmare that was.
I can’t even deal with “my mother now.” It’s a — total reject. WHY am I HERE? I have no idea what to do, sometimes, on nights such as these, I just WANT the future in which EVERYONE I KNOW AND DON’T KNOW IS READING THESE WORDS OR MY WORDS to go away. Anyway, that’s it for this evening.
I saw an old friend at my restaurant. A friend from my youth. I don’t think he saw me, but you never know. I hid. I regret ever doing anything artistic. I regret, this evening. I never thought I could ever feel that way. Just so stupid. That was so stupid. I’ll keep opening up to what I could do now. I really wasn’t THAT BLOWN away by my stupid family story. I didn’t want this to control my life. Jesus, in Paris, I was fine, but the moment I decided to write about these years… and I met that plant medicine faciliator — like, nooooooooo. Go away. I never felt so disgusted with my looks, like what did I attract? I’m just trying to get it out because I just don’t know right now, I don’t know what to do, keep looking for jobs, I work on my writing pretty much daily… wishing I never decided to write, hating this guru for being such a liar. I read back on these drafts that I sent him, horrified. WHY did he LIE? I look back totally embarrassed. Horrified at myself, for sure. Shivering at “you must become the extraordinary man,” like why is this man speaking to me like this? Over a book? He was, the worst thing that ever happened to me. So I suppose I can say that I struggle with a personality and self that led me where I ended up. Where this asshole insults me, just so — you would have spoken to animals in the 15th century, just a jerk. I hated these geniuses. “YOU’RE SPECIAL,” the guru PROJECTING 1001 NIGHTS otno me, like the neverending story here. Most of my friends think that sounded cultish. Not to say I am not special, but I impersonated him, like, this is what this guy did. Just a girl at a cafe. I didn’t get “discovered,” you know what I mean? I got some dude…. wanting to get into my personal life…. vulnerable.
I wish I could start over, sometimes. No, no, no, it’s one of these impossible dreams, to be able to turn back the clock, and just say NO. Please go away. So I can’t do that. I’ll keep going, I’ll keep separating, mostly, from him, them, the whole decade, and I’ll figure out if I want ANYTHING to do with my past, at all, because that subject matter sucks royally. But of course the GURUS are psychic so they know whether it’s true about my father or not, isn’t that right? They know most things without needing to ASK a question.
I want so badly to reach a point where I don’t regret, reach a point where I’ve either alchemized these experiences or they just get to neutral. For the most part, I’m alright, it’s the MAKING IT head fuck, the YOU’RE DOING IT, ALL OF IT, it’s the Wizard of OZ, this guru, the WIZARD OF OZ. I just wish I had something that worked, something that worked well, and right now, despite that I feel raw, sometimes, I don’t want to do anything else for the moment other than… try to perform, try to settle that unrealized desire, right now. And to… take it step by step, wanting a car, a house. Trying to think about how I can make money… even online… finish my book, though now, I’m just sitting back and thinking as to what I’d like to write… having put the PSYCHOLOGICAL OBJECT, TAKING IT OUT OF YOUR HEAD, DOWLOADING THE BOOK FROM THE FUTURE aside.
There are songs about bad relationships. I really got into a bad relationship. But of course, this guru, he honestly thought that this would be a good idea. That shocks me. Now I mostly seek warmth.