Wow, you know, I looked up Amal Clooney and simply admired this person’s career. That’s a talented person, a remarkable person, as the guru called me, “remarkable.” For just sitting there. It’s not to say that everyone has to be her, but that’s sort of my standard. I’m also not being totally serious, but I woke up this morning still needing to process through these useless relationships I got into… that really hurt me. Forget my feelings. They hurt me, like I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I look back, like, okay, I happened to meet this plant facilitator who brought drugs into my life — sure, they were mind expanding, but I didn’t need to get involved in drugs disguised as some ritual — not to say they were used in that way as well, but for the most part, when I think about this guy coming to Paris (long distance?) with drugs…? I go…um? Why are you here? Wasting my time? Mouth totally open, Maria, mouth totally open, I’m impersonating Angelica Leibowitz in my mind. I really really didn’t want to get involved with drugs. Truly. Not my scene.
But I was vulnerable in a particular way, it shocks me. And then, once I get back to the states, of ALL the people I could have gotten involved with, in this group, I got involved with a fascinating character, but a controversial one, one who “sometimes treats people in unimaginable ways” according to my ex. Like, why did you encourage a friendship between us? I mean, “um, you need to maintain a bit of distance there.” He didn’t say that. In fact, I remember this night, he did too many drugs, okay? Drugs are medicine too. And my ex goes, “you’re going to have to go up there.” Haha, today? “That’s not my problem.” You deal with your own shit. NOW I have the picture.
Oh no…I just go, noooo, in the movie version of these years, I came from a background, you see, which made me vulnerable. And the thing is, very reputable people are involved in this group, they “journey.” I don’t have a problem with it, it was just royally not what I needed. Of course, I’m going to get involved, too involved, unnecessarily involved. Where now, the slytherin, what I call him, he wants to help me…. as someone who wanted to…be a writer…as someone who mentors people? Peering at this guy. “Who have you mentored?” He wanted to mentor people on drugs, basically, and according to that world, that’s fine. They might bring out your gifts, or something. I don’t know what to say about that. But he “knew I was a writer” upon sight. I THINK, in the movie version, that would… strike people as…uh oh. Just because it was AMAZING if not comical to me — the GURU wants to HELP ME MANIFEST REALITY… like that’s really the secret to it all, when he would NEVER have acted that way with the guy my age, his partner’s son, I think, NO WAY. He wanted to be a script writer, this guru isn’t telling that guy what he told me, I seriously doubt it. “Throw the ball against the fabric of reality…” that’s cool if that’s what he does in his spare time? But my friend who introduced me, an artist, even, he’s not talking to her like that. ME? I was SPECIAL.
And you know what? I really wish I wasn’t special, you know? I really really wish this guy didn’t think I was special. And Amal Clooney would be reading these lines, “okay? What made you special exactly?” I don’t think I’m selling myself short. It was interesting that these men wanted me to sell myself short, actually. Looking at the guru, I get that I could be famous? I could succeed? It’s just, what’s novel or groundbreaking about that statement? And I was just minding my own business… writing a book, I was working on it, and I hate that fell prey, actually. To a truly arrogant man’s VERSION of me, which was not TRUE. He spoke with SUCH authority, and weirdly, he was a weird guy, like, would he describe himself as “the normal type?” Hm, I doubt it. Pointing at women like he’s a guru… in public, too. Why is he acting as if he’s Alexander the Great’s teacher?
I just had to start over, completely. Now I don’t know why I was beckoned to these dark corners, but what about love? Getting married, having children? I didn’t want those things, but now, it’s a different story. I don’t know what it was about me, other than my LOOKS, that made me so remarkable. And I say that, with heartache, because, if I was a GOOD person, I was disrespected, so that didn’t necessarily bring me GOODNESS. It’s like the Russian stick masseuse said, “you are light, and the dark likes the light.” If these men could just take a moment to self-reflect. What about this set-up ON SCREEN even, yes, public facing would appear… like a good idea? You know? It would be fascinating, in that, Maria found herself in outer space… where she got somewhat seduced by glittering pictures, successful men, and one woman, who I can’t even talk about she was such an opportunist, like sure, I couldn’t AFFORD to do this, so WHY, to my EX, who I want to slap most days, why did you bring me into this? I was shocked. I look back and go, WHY am I doing this? From beginning to end. I cannot even believe I ended up here. Someone of my “elite” status, as the slytherin called me “elite,” another residual from this, “Maria could be a Duchess,” hilarious. The only problem? I did not like hierarchy. And now, now that I have my problems with POWER sorted, yeah, none of these relationships would have been possible, because I wasn’t making a CHOICE to take a lower status in relation to other people, BY CHOICE. Unfortunately, the world doesn’t respect someone like that. Bad move, not a good move. If you really feel that way, try service, as a vocation— go into public service. It’s not that it isn’t valid. I got eaten alive by these relationships. And none of these so-called “trauma” experts, no offense, heard anything that was coming out of my mouth? I was blown away.
Wow, being pretty, having a nice wardrobe, that really didn’t help me, truly. I mean, I GET I was attractive, but that wasn’t my deal. I don’t know what to say, because these men didn’t necessarily tell me I was beautiful, I mean, in passing, indirectly, but what do I care? In any case, that was bad, really bad. I grain away in horror, you see, over the past decade, whereas this slytherin conitnues to believe I wanted his other mentee? No no, you don’t understand, the entire production was like a horror show to me. Where I’m graining away from this so-called 400 dollars an hour psychologist? What was she doing? She wasn’t qualified, I guess, I mean, I couldn’t even believe that no one thought, “hey, Maria,” (the sexual trauma specialist throwing up his hand, tough subject), “maybe we should crack open those years…?” Hilarious! Utterly hilarious. I didn’t like wearing attention-grabbing clothes, I started going in another direction. It’s like, truly speaking, this guru was totally wrong, he didn’t read me correctly at all. He wasn’t that wise. There was nothing wise about the moves he made. But like his brother, they really like to give unsolicited advice. They might check that. They like to sit in the position of “wiseman.” I just don’t know WHY. Feels a bit self-centered. Like, I look back, like why am I having a birthday dinner with these men? These are friends? In the 15th century you would have been the one to speak to animals? I laugh, sometimes, I really do. It’s not so much a problem knowing a bunch of different people, it’s the level of involvement, that I personally didn’t want. I didn’t want to get THAT involved. Would they? Would they want WOMEN even, coddling them, strangely, not really interested in them, but vaguely, sure, but these women wanted to “help them,” with mindsets? Like, would they want to spend their time that way? To hear, “yeah as the hot guy…” in passing? Does that sound uplifting? Think about it. Put yourself in my shoes.
Contemplate, in the words of Barbara Harris.
WOULD YOU WANT TO BE ME? I can tell you the easy answer is “no.” Um, maybe I might — in this case, no. I was going to say, maybe every now and then we can get esoteric? You know? But probably, it’s a no. I don’t need to be in some weird ass pupil relationship. No offense. I’m Maria Mocerino. I was in a sex scandal when I was four. Now fuck off. Show me some respect. What the hell did these so-called geniuses have on ME? What do they know about LIFE? Go ahead, tell me. Tell me something I didn’t already know. Across the board. I had even JESUS problems, I mean, just wrestling with the world, and sure, there are other ways of operating, except, not for me, not for a “pretty girl?” I truly didn’t THINK or KNOW that I was THIS PERSON. Wow! I was blown away. Because to anyone and everyone, WHY these men wanted to HELP ME, literally, when I needed no help, I do not know. But help was a real shadow. I look at my childhood with a fair degree of horror.
Wanting to scream at my second surrogate mother — what the fuck are you doing? Her husband was clearly uncomfortable with this relationship. She should have listened to her husband. UGH, I don’t know if everyone can relate to this, and I’m not seeking to RELATE TO EVERYONE ON EARTH because it feels as though my circle at least, they just want to RELATE RELATE RELATE. I felt my life go down the toilet, though I don’t want to evoke that kind of imagery, but it was a rapid fleeting sensation that the whole thing left me… I really do feel as though I had two lives. Everything that came before thirty six, about, and now… a new life. Wow, I suppose I felt humble. The entire thing was a “no.” I was definitely worth more than that, I think, and at these points, I see life as a series of choices. You’re making them most definitely. I made choices throughout my life that weren’t totally conscious, like I wasn’t going to make a reach in the world, because I was “against it,” against hierarchy, power plays, I rejected my mother’s buffonesque genius, as she appears some real pussy whitehead — genius! A star! Wee! Sex scandals!!! Parading through Beverly Hills out of her limo… her tits hanging out. Mayhem. A level of disrespect of self, heartbreaking doesn’t even begin with her. So I had problems to work out…and my way of being… left me in outer space, but not just any outer space. I don’t know if these were bored rich people. But these were men with nothing to lose.
And you know, I made my choice to stay, listen to them, you know? I’m just graining away. They were the opposite of wise. And I’m not even against drugs, to be honest, do whatever you want. I don’t know. But I saw enough unawareness around drugs. Meaning, they have an effect. My closest friend began talking like, “the mushrooms are telling me to get higher…” like we should all be high, all the time. Nodding, wishing I had gone into the FBI, (laughing) CIA, something like this, I’m sure they did. That’s not a good sign. I just couldn’t believe that I was…sort of surrounded by drug users, like, no no no. No no no… I don’t know what happened! Sorry, no no.
And the thing is, NOW, on the other side of all that, NOW I’m going, I could have been an investigator, I could have been potentially gifted at fornesics, something like this, given the skills I could have developed. Like who gives a shit about my feelings? Looking at this guru. I didn’t need to be manhandled, in other words. NURTURE, this guru would emphasize words in a way that makes me CRINGE, because he was manipulative. He wanted to NURTURE me? Can you imagine? Did I need nurturing? It was like, an overactive mother? I don’t know what that was. I was a total mess. For four years. I was PSYCHIC TOO PSYCHIC CREATING MY OWN REALITY GO AHEAD SPEND YOUR IRA MONEY BECAUSE YOU CAN MEDITATE THE MONEY INTO EXISTENCE…whoa!
I look back on it all, heartbroken. Heartbroken that I wasn’t able to see what was happening, how these men even treated women? They did not see me at all. Jesus Christ, I mean, at every step, no one heard me. Do I even want to see my cousins in Italy again? Not really. I mean, holy shit, that was a nightmare. They SHUT ME DOWN, it’s like, the guru did the same thing. The first time I met him, I say, “that’s what it’s about.” And he shut me down. Now, I would throw something at him. GET OUT. “You arrogant prick.” Day one — WHO are YOU? I had to meet THIS GUY.
In any case, I don’t care, actually, I am not in a place where I can paint pretty pictures. What can I say? That’s the place I’m in. Charging into the world with joy, i was happy anywhere, so I don’t know if that worked out for me. My MINDSET I don’t know if that was a problem, because interacting with the world presented so many problems, and it was — maybe not simple, but it was structural. This guru seemed to believe I didn’t believe in myself… in what regard? What does that mean? I was writing… wasn’t I? And that’s where this guy came in to manhandle my life. There was nothing WRONG. I had only just begun. It’s called keep it in your pants. I hated that I stroked these mens’ egos, really. So now, I have no clue…I keep working on my writing, on the side, sort of wishing I never took this path, but I hope that I’ll be able to break ground… but I don’t know what kind of book I want to write. In the end, I might go through the entirety of my life like Forrest Gump, like this was… this is what happened… I don’t know yet. I’m just reading right now, really simple, really effective, no need for meditation exactly or downloading information, and I’m giving myself some time to figure out that part of it… and for the pieces I’m working on, they’re taking time… I find that to be the most annoying aspect of writing. I’m not someone who has been able to produce anything yet, but my exchanges with this guru — wow. I guess even Weinstein, people in these positions, they can make obscenely stupid decisions.
Like, people didn’t understand WHY the teacher targeted Amy Griffin, because she was wealthy, well, I mean, nothing happened to him though. There were no consequences for that guy. So what are these people talking about? That NYTIMES article was utterly bizarre. I was moving through these lines… like is this even true? I mean, any of it? What did it matter? It didn’t change anything for that guy. So why NOT target her? Don’t be ridiculous. Anyway, I feel like I’m getting geared up to get back on the mic, because I have a lot to talk about. I’m getting more comfortable up there, I just went through exquisite pain, over a stupid sex scandal, and questioning it, to get SHUT DOWN by people I do not speak to anymore. And am I supposed to?
WOW, imagine? I hope I’ll make people laugh. “My mother now???” This phrase. “Is Mexican?” Um, okay… I’m going to need a second. Because she was a teacher at my high school, and she became my mother… there you go! I need a second for sure. I wouldn’t have done anything that I did, which I’ve tried to COMMUNICATE but no one is hearing me. I am in a — wow, I just got PERSPECTIVE on my whole life. I have no idea if I was ABUSED sexually, hello? By my parents. And every day, I try to get a little closer to SUCCEEDING in putting that story out there, because no one reading it is going to know what to do with it. I couldn’t even believe how my friends treated me. Mental health, look, just avoid it… if you can. You do not want to venture in there. You’re going to get VAGUE you’re brave, for? Going through a medical emergency? What? People have no IDEA that you’re going through a real experience. Was there sensation involve? Yes, too much in my case. Yes, there’s a MENTAL component, you know? The body is… a whole organism. I mean, I feel like I’m speaking ANATOMY 101. Where I should pull down a diagram of the human body, so… I truly couldn’t.
I just hope that I figure out — a happy ending. Where I look around and take a satisfying deep breath. This is my life. It reflects who I feel I am, as I — didn’t understand what happened. This isn’t me. And people were like, “this is so you…” when I wasn’t so sure. So I hope I’ll continue coming into the world, because it was less my parents, though I’m clueless there, I got to the end of a short I’m working on for a magazine, the waking up through the story — going, what? Did you say you didn’t know how my mother handled me? And the sexual trauma specialist, he’s validating I came to the right place, okay? YEAH, he’s not soothed, he’s NOT soothed by my mother. “She’s tossing you to strange women,” who cares? “She’s running into church accosting the priest with her rapes?” I truly…peered through this, going, “wow.” She’s looking for sex downtown. I mean, wow. She was a sexual deviant. But no no no, it’s not possible, she couldn’t have REALLY put you in a sex scandal… and you have to picture my four-year-old face, looking around corners… now living in a different house…? I’m against natural obstacles like ATTENTION SPANS… feelings I do not understand… I am FOUR, I get cranky, imaginative, strangely obsessed with a task… and at times, alert. Where am I?
So to SOOTHE ME, right? This specialist just said, “you know what? Yes, she could have really done this to you…” sure. I was already in this situation. The disbelief I received, um, for someone who was already in a situation, that required calling social services, why did I have to incur more pain? Looking around for this PETER, who is this PETER who is crying WOLF about something like this? And you know what? I think the truth is, he doesn’t really exist. And if he does, which I think he does, WHY are you doing that? However, his existence isn’t the point, the people who doubted me — where is this PETER? This PETER that you know? That was a nightmare! Ugh, so, I’ll keep the faith. NOW, to be honest, I would understand… if someone were to remark that I was remarkable… because now, I evidently had problems… that brought me to my knees, like I could have died, or something, and it felt like way, that I died… with this guru, utterly horrifying, casually unemotionally telling me he THINKS (based on nothing, no questions) that what I went through, sitting on a floor with pain in my vaginal area, was “what it’s like on the other side…”
I — I’m sorry? I make jokes right? Like the Neapolitan in me is going to throw a block party for SURE in Beverly Hills — we’re going to protest, dance, damage public property. Storm the adminstration building for fun, revolt against government, break out into songs, pass around food… kill the mercenaries. I really felt that way, like I sort of died, but um, how to describe not knowing if my own parents… took advantage of me? At four years old? I can’t even look at a picture of them. It’s beyond an argument. Beyond mentally ill. It’s criminal. On most days, I’m not thinking about it. I’m mostly trying to get to mental stillness, no pictures. No biking in place, stationary, trying to get somewhere.
What I’m trying to do now, is give myself some space — to not close down, to expand, actually, even if I feel like I have no idea what’s next. I felt so broken down, and what would these men say? I was, what? A nice person? Truly. Am I supposed to keep marching, with joy, as I did in the past, but no one GOT IT? It was a choice? Do you know what I mean? Yikes, and with my former best friend, imagine that I defy all odds, and I end up in Hollywood? Where I truly belong, apparently????? Laughing, I’m laughing. I hadn’t even finished a book yet, and this guy was already in a movie, seeing me on late night talk shows…? Discussing sex scandals? “As someone who came from a sex scandal, if I may…” like, OMG OMG OMG, we need to CAST HER, now! Thety go apeshit. I was AMAZED. Um, I suppose that would be a moving sequence of events… but? Is he going to try and call me to get an audition? You know what I mean? When I had to start over, PAY money for auditions, you know what I mean? Because, I just started putting myself out there again as a performer, but it’s like anything else, it takes time to develop… oneself. I hope the stars will align. I guess I felt like I really had to leave my old life behind.
I gotta get to work, before I get to work, but I hope I find a way that works, that I’ll take that deep breath, that I’ll feel like I really reached my full potential, which is all I have to say right now. That was disturbing, overall. The sexual trauma specialist would agree. I feel like projecting a photo of my parents on the comedy wall— can we examine these people? ARE THEY THESE PEOPLE? PLEASE. I was 4, 7, I was so young. And these men treated me as if I were a trivial thing, I am amazed, because I guess that was really difficult to follow, I guess there were Arendtian problems of not being SEEN, literally, problems of discomfort with the UNKNOWNS.
Remember: if you’re trying to heal anyone, don’t. It’s not going to work. Okay? That’s first. If you like to “help” people, think about that… think about whether or not you’re actually helping someone. Generally, helping people is one of these complicated arenas. Read PSYCHE, I do, the MAG, and they wrote an article about it. Does this person need help? Again, none of these men are going, “oh my God, you’re so talented, you really are, at writing…” you know? Let me call… someone. Send me something you wrote. No? You know what I mean? So, I still don’t totally get it, but people like people, simply, and they want to help them out, “you seem like a lovely person, really,” which would have been fine, it’s more so that I wasn’t thinking properly, like I was trying to be open to LIFE happening to ME. So sure, psychedelics, when that wasn’t my interest. “No worries, just practice writing…” well, there’s no trajectory in it? My friend was like, “where do you want to end up?” In the end, I have better resources around me. But then, really, I wasn’t interested, exactly, in being a journalist. Am I writing about family? I don’t know about that.
I came from an unusual set of circumstances. The guru said, “life isn’t about what you wanna do, it’s about what you wanna know…” and he believed my life idea was “family.” Okay. I did not want to write about family, that was just a story I wanted to WORK OUT OF. No offense, that story isn’t about family… I had maladaptive patterning. So I’ll keep expanding, growing, I’ll keep insisting and hopefully I’ll break new ground soon. I mean, I suppose I could write an article about Murray Bowen, like, listen up families — it’s “blunt talk” time. Smiling. Okay? I was in a few, basically, and it’s time to break down what I learned.
So right now, I’m resting upon Bowen, because he doesn’t think that there’s normal, so if you’re emotional, you’re not necessarily pathological, as long as equilbrium is maintained. I feel all over the place right now, but that’s how I feel right now. Like, that’s what I inspired? It wasn’t exactly flattering. These were strange dynamics. I was not interested in being this person. At all. Like, I wanted to stop seeing this psychologist, right? The slytherin’s psychologist. And she said something about me being the scholarship kid? Hunny, we made too much money, not to put YOU down, as YOU clearly have a lot of money, or are playing that card, but I wasn’t the scholarship kid. And, despite the questions, my mother was a gangster, I mean, for better or for worse, she was a con artist, she had skills, she was a good marketer, someone who made an impressive amount of money as a tax expert? She taught at USC, even, a fact that, at four, I demanded to be taken at once. No way this woman could TEACH. My BOW in silhouette in the car. I ran down the hall…no way!!! My nose against the glass, I was blown away. And my father was an aerospace engineer, a rocket scientist. SURE, I didn’t live in BEL AIR, you know? I mean…?
HOW did I become this?
Look, a gangster has its… respects. It’s hard to explain. I have to take my parents in pieces that don’t connect. It was so bizarre. So I’m joking around, but I really really didn’t understand what happened. So I wasn’t a Rockefeller, you know what I mean? I didn’t come from A FAMILY of wealth and prestige… I still don’t get it. I mean, these plant people in my direction — that was sort of a joke. It didn’t empower me, people. Wasn’t that obvious? I do not want to DISCUSS this story at a journey, no offense. And NO ONE on earth is going to tell me, “why?” Why is that, Maria? Why don’t you want to discuss it? WHY would you want to talk about this? You see the difference? Keep that on the DL, chill. Just don’t get lured… I HAVE to SHOW that I am a NORMAL person, meaning affected, yes, because if I don’t, I get FLACK, you see what I mean? WHY are you so unaffected? I don’t know, look at yourself in the mirror, are you SHOWING your feelings to people? Be real. Either way, couldn’t win. Gender favoritism is very real. I came to, uh, WOW, realize that.
You see, the ridiculous nature of how I was designed? I was the problem, in my family, you see. I was the “piece of work,” when now, beware, I will obliterate you in public, as I did my father. NO, it’s not “that guy didn’t stand a chance.” THAT GUY PUT YOU IN A SEX SCANDAL. WAKE UP. Judge Judy? Judge Judy would have incinerated my parents on TV. She would have torched my parents. “Are you an idiot?” To my father. Truly speaking. I had to LOOK at a MATT DAMON poster to begin this awakening — and I have to laugh. DAMON? MATT DAMON? I said to myself, approaching this poster, “no way…he would not understand any of this…” I’m pretty sure. No offense, but I got through this story right now, anticipating the CRINGE from the reader, OH MY GOD, he’s calling, acting weird??? Oh no… then he requests to visit? Hmmmm? And I’m feeling BAD for this person? This Angelica Leibowitz, I’m telling you, when I actually GRASPED what happened over these four years, the only thing I could think was: SCRIPT.
It’s a fucking script. Just, she invites him over to her house, at the end of these years, right? Fuck the kid. She’s a piece of shit anyway. That’s what the story was… and now, I can just say that, SPARE ME your talk of “it not being true,” I’m simply STATING what it was. And she tells him, look, your wife lied about you… because she BOUNCED, disappeared, no money left, and he’s — acting like the Confederacy of Dunces. Oh cool, he says? She can stay here while “he figures it out…” and I became obsessed with this scene. I’ll keep working on it. Just, this mother, who cares if she’s Brazilian, staring at the door. DING DONG, all innocent. She doesn’t KNOW, imagine me giving this direction AS THE GURU—pointing DOWN. “She doesn’t KNOW…” and HE???? Someone might have to embrace ambiguity… right? Wouldn’t actors be… so excited to be working on this scene with me? I laugh because people didn’t get it, why are you so excited about it? Well, it’s a good scene. You gotta take what you can. So, in this case, the scene was… ? Was he? Was he not? I’m telling you… there’s potential, I mean, if someone TOLD me, AGAIN, you see? That’s what my mother told her, I would maybe have lost my shit. However, ANGELICA convinced herself, which is not the same thing as BELIEVING… not the same mask. She convinced herself it wasn’t true, because she was in looney tunes. So, there you go. Does Nick, the father, wake up, is he innocent? Guilty? I saw all these possiblities existing, which is how I made peace with it.
I didn’t have to feel bad about that part. But me personally? Devatasted. My mother’s hatred of me, her true rejection of her, wow, to Angelica Leibowitz, that was intense. I think, in her opinion, it was part of why she believed it was true… that my mother utterly rejected me. And I hate Ghomi, truly. I hope I destroy his house. My mother too. A curse on both your houses. It’s just a line in a play. Who even was this guy? Amazing. Anyway, I’m at the end, gotta go, gotta go do things, I have an article due tomorrow. I have to think — jobs? What do I do? I’ll keep getting up there… I don’t know if I can get to an open mic today but maybe I can, we’ll see. I still hang onto this side blog, I still hope that M Night Shyamalan will say, yeah, that Beverly Hills guru, that’s a picture, motion picture. Or something. It just, I think, I don’t know, it just doesn’t look good. It doesn’t reflect positively on him, acting like a GURU.
“The theme here is nourishment…”
Oh my God, that comment left me breathless, looking back. He’s FEEDING me. Why he had some sick take on all this, it was truly disturbing. In the end, “was I fed?” I was a mess. “YES,” he said, cryptically, and if he could EXERCISE his so-called genius, to THINK that I was MANIPULATED severely, so he might want to get some professional help. Meaning, HIS FEELING SENSE is not superior. He is not a supreme being. “And I suspect you weren’t bathed either.” BYE! Who cares? That guy didn’t care about anything other than himself. Unreal. May he be immortalized. I am not a merciful ruler. Not in this case. I hated this guy.
Of course, she’s IN a sex scandal, when she’s four, and she’s going to end up in some bizarre relationship with some Hollywood guy. Ridiculous! I feel like putting on a bolero, and calling myself “your virgin Queen,” as Cate Blanchett did as Elizabeth. I will walk the streets of Beverly Hills, proudly, one day. I assure you. I doubt he will be able to even look at me. I will lift my arm, like Jesus did, and point like a guru, from time to time. “You do not need to manage it, manage the shift in reality…”
Another stupid post about this guy.