So I posted a stupid video on social media yesterday, and who cares? I’m trying to let go of my issues with it, and I was listening to Enya, which made me laugh, for Miracle Mile. And so, I thought, I was started taking videos of my walk just to amuse myself. And so I thought, let me follow through and take a photo. But my friends, or some of them in my head are terrible judgers, they’re judgmental. I created distance from them, or I don’t even talk to them anymore, but this judgmental vibe still affects me. What will people think? If I create something stupid, even, does it fucking matter? I’m trying not to overthink. I just don’t care — my world was ripped to shreds. I can’t help how old I am, even, and that I had to start over. Even as a f you to the stupid guru, with this perspective that I’m not supposed to “give a shit about” like what’s wrong with having a sense of humor? That man had none. What’s wrong with liking to laugh? Okay? So I don’t care. I just do not care anymore.
I had a dream though, and I had to have a conversation with self — “like no.” I’m not interested in these types of dreams. I don’t even care to interpret my dreams anymore, like, it’s just a dream. I’ve had different types of dreams, too, to bring up a bit of the mystery of my IMPOSSIBLE NOT TO SEE PSYCHICNESS, as I turn underneath trees to Enya. So in this dream, it was a marriage between two tribes, type deal, my wedding day, but Pedro Pescal and Leonardo di Caprio were in it, randomly, and it was turning into a war. (Over a social media post?) So there were killing and bloodshed. A bit of that vibe. I woke up like, okay, look, whatever this thought seed is, it must be gone. I do not want to have this dream. And there was another me lying beside me, and she reached for me, vouching for this dream. “Yeah no.” So that was that. The answer is no. I don’t want to be in conflict with who I am going to bed with. Meaning myself. But it doesn’t have to be complicated. Where one side is killing itself because it doesn’t want to be involved with the other. Am I at odds with myself? I don’t know why. I sort of wish I wasn’t friends with anyone.
When I started posting videos of me in Naples, I got out of the hospital, I don’t know if that was the best time, I hate the guru, thoroughly, just because, that was a toxic relationship for me, but still, some of my friends had problems with it. Like, I just felt I got bullshit on top of being in the hospital, with my friend telling me that my friends got together and talked about my social media use behind my back? Imagine? As if Brad Pitt and I are the centaurs to Enya “May it Be,” the last two people on Earth to not be on social media, and my arrival was “so strange.” Like, who cares? I sort of hate it, because the public has such a contentious relationship with it. It’s annoying as fuck, as someone who just — does not care. I don’t CARE about social media. YOU DO. You know what I mean? What the fuck do I care if you use it as a platform or not? I’m not at odds with “what’s real,” okay? I know what’s real.
I just feel like I have to expel the negativity I absorbed, because it’s a public platform. And I’m trying to figure out what to do with my content, since my life got blown to pieces, and I have no idea what’s next in my life, but I’m starting over from scratch. Hate that guru so much, like what a waste of my time with this STUPID guru randomly saying cryptically bland and useless things about “the book,” thoughts that came to him in the middle of the night. His middle of the night… he was so creepy. I’m sorry I ever got involved with that guy — because I had to trash this guy. Into the bin. That was a head-fuck, the worst version of ZELDA I have ever seen.
Anyway, I do not want to have a internal battle over a stupid video. You know what I mean? I took a walk, it made me laugh, and again, I have to expulse these couple of people I knew who were so judgmental as they come to my head… in these moments… like, no offense, but what makes you so superior? I don’t even give a shit what I look like. I’m trying to let all that go. You see, I don’t know what to say, because I went through such terrible terrible dreams over the past few years, remembering the GURU in a darkened house — go away — here’s a tip: don’t write all over someone because you believe you have superior feeling senses. Please. And if you are NOT qualified, don’t ACT like you are. I told myself, waking up from this violent dream, marriage day, “no no no.” It’s gotta stop. I don’t know how and why i got involved with people who are obsessed with being “cool,” or have any problems with me being me. I didn’t put myself out there when I had super nice clothes, or when I was “enchanted” whatever this was. But I’ll keep figuring this stupid platform out, and i hope it helps me in some capacity. I just, at times, can’t stand that this story cost me everything. Sometimes I wish I never became an artist, you see, like this brought me too many issues. People with issues. Like WOW. Wanting to be a writer brought me the strangest men, and like, now I have no idea what to do.
I wish I never went there. So I hope it will bring me something of value as I had to trash the last decade. I don’t know what else to do for the moment, as I have to settle a score with myself, whether or not I wanted to be a performer, and whether the sex scandal is worth it at all. I hate that story. It brought me nothing but problems, so hopefully I’ll be able to channel that into acompelling piece of art and reject it — for life. Everyone responds differently to whatever’s happened to them. Me? That insane scandal that turned me into a goddamn Cinderella — like I needed that shit — it’s a fuck you to Enya. As I “gather the children,” the invisible children in the foyer, “let it be,” with Jose Leibowitz sort of taking a knee, suggesting it, but he’s really just stretching… in sports gear and a gold chain. That story brought me NOTHING but problems, nothing. Weird attachments. The guru. Ugh. The end of my life. “You’re SO SPECIAL” and YET he did not LIKE ME. WHAT made me special, asshole? Look, Brad Pitt looking fine in good sunglasses behind me in Beverly Hills — so annoyed, he’s going to back ME UP in my Zoolander version of all this, fuck Billy Zane, I’m laughing, I’m telling you, that obsession with manifesting, why did I meet this — to Lord of the Rings — PERSON as if I had to go through the DARK SIDE of it to bring balance back to the realm. Brad Pitt, hilariously, a true psychic in my opinion, I’m pretty sure, that’s what my “FEELING” in the guru’s words TELL ME, he randomly appeared in my apocalypse dream in a tuxe. He kicked open a door, as I was hiding with a baby, “what are you doing here?” He got me out.
I don’t know what to say, because I can’t look back on this moment yet, if there’s something to say about — the thrill of feeling like you’re on the right track, whatever that means, or that you feel like you’re going after what you truly desire, and not knowing at all, actually, if it’s going to work out at all. But you do it anyway. I gotta get to work, 6:30 AM. I do not want to be at odds, nor do I want to care about funny little videos I post, you know what I mean? Was there something wrong with being a bit of a comedic person? I came from a farce. I don’t know if I was supposed to WALLOW dude, guru. Wanting to flick this mother fucker away like a cig he can’t stop smoking 24/7. An addict. I bet you, Brad Pitt, he knows who he is. He doesn’t NEED to consult anyone. He’s psychic and he knows… so anyway, I’ll be just fine, and I’m not really that concerned about anything right now, just putting myself out there has taken my entire life. That’s it for now. I didn’t need all these complexes, like I wish I never went to NYU. I wish I never got involved — some of my friends are fine, it’s just this inner critic I still am trying to shake of — like what’s CHIC to wear, all this shit. I don’t know why I feel like I absorbed so much, I don’t know.
“Looks like your having fun,” this ex friend of mine said, with a tone, like YEAH, I am. Got a PROBLEM? On a social media account? That has like 700 followers? I unfriended a bunch of people, basically everyone who talked about me AT ALL negatively. Stay away. Again, social media isn’t my problem, though I sort of hate it, it’s everyone’s attitude towards it, and it’s so tired and classic — it’s ridiculous. Why social media has become “the place where people emotionally put themselves out there” I do not know. I’m just trying to get over that stupid part. It’s just, there’s no one there. You’re not really talking to anyone. So it’s a bit of a head fuck.
Gotta go.
I’m trying to get over the future shit, the future-minded crap, mostly. I’m trying to visualize where I’d like to end up, but that future-obsessive thinking really, is hard to shake. I’m sorry I went anywhere near that guru that Brad Pitt knows, lol, I have to laugh. Maybe he doesn’t I don’t know. I’ll keep moving forward. I am. I just want something to work out. Jo called my ex, that’s my friend, she can’t even deal with him, or that I got involved with that psychedelic group. JUST PLEASE. I look back and I think, I’m sorry????????? Why am I doing this????? Anyhoo, good morning. Dawn. The sun rises, also.