As I work at 5:30 AM over the weekends, now I’m up every morning at 5:30 without fail. So here I am up at 5:30 in my silk cap, for my hair. Someone suggested once that I get a silk pillow, but I think there’s rhyme and reason behind keeping the mane contained. So I have a very attractive, very “she’s got her shit together” cap on. I don’t have the “she’s got her shit together” pajams yet, but we take it one step at a time. There’s nothing really fun about spending money to rebuild, to slip in that comment towards the guru… as he might say something like that. Like, no no no, I was in the hospital douchebag, lost years of my life. So that guy can fuck off, and he’s almost totally gone, left my body. I don’t give a shit about that man’s so-called weak wisdom. In any case, any sign of him, you see, that pops up, I have knives in my mind, I’m an assasin. I had to stab the thought of him out of existence. Stab. Kill Bill. I have stabbed this man out of existence. Sliced his throat. Like this mother fucker would even stand a chance in a fight with me. Ha, that might even make him laugh. I would KICK his ass so fast. Prissy bitch. REMEMBER:

In a switch blade fight between Barbara Harris and Vietnam’s street fighter, the SMART money would be on Harris. I’m on a whole other level.

But, all the same, I’m trying to really live the life that I feel is mine. I’m really trying to put myself out there to see what could happen — and so I woke up this morning, in the dark, thinking, “oh,” let me get some amber bulbs, ohhh, mood lighting, as my whole approach right now is — building from the ground up. This encapsulates it perfectly: my ex best friend said, when I was living at the Chelsea Hotel, “how can you top this?” An apartment ouf of Great Expectations? That’s in dire need of repair? Or, that didn’t have working plumbing? You see? It was grand, the wooden beams on the floor gleamed. I was stuck in some “cool” image.

What I love? A really good mattress. I could have gotten one, while I was living there, but I feel a deep sense of relief, in having worked out these kinks. Like, my own apartment? If I had the attitude I had now, I could have saved up a bunch of money and put it towards a house. The problem was focus. Like, how am I going to top this? That apartment was so symbolically on the mark, you know? Like, it was a museum piece, you couldn’t demean that apartment, you couldn’t criticize it because it was… beautiful, original. My doom. They put brass wallpaper on the kitchen walls and ceilings — a shade of yellow that turned pure gold at the end of the afternoon, encased in 100 year old wood, handcarved, with yellow and teal ceramics along the boarded up fireplace. Fantastic beasts above my head, the boarded up chandelier silthered, serpents. There were antique standing lamps everywhere, candlabras of cobras, ia portrait of Dali on the wall. Artists bought it, kept it, protected it. It was a dream… a grand apartment, three in one.

And that’s where my life ended. Sheets over the furniture, antique, the living room was a shade of animated blue that the artists brought over on a chip from Naples, and not just any artists, like, not to disrespect people who paint in their freetime, but he’s a famous artist, painter. You know him. He brought this shade from my beloved Naples and had it made… so the living room, at night, that shade of blue sparkled, practically, in the night light, not navy. It was bright, animated, like a cartoon, but at night, it took on a magical hue, a lagoon.

So that’s where…I don’t know what to do with this character I invented while I was here, that the guru called “a really good psychological device.” I don’t know about that, the utility of that statement, but I will analyze that character — that this guru even inspired mostly because he didn’t know what connection means. He was not intersted in connecting. That was a terrible thing to do to me. He was – selffish. Self-ish. And since he gave me the Seth books, I’ll make sure to break him down with the logic of that book… afterall, there’s nothing that says I cannot CHANNEL Seth. Time for a little update. It’s the same with anything else. Honestly, just picturing Arendt reading this book, she would have, you know…that’s the thing, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her… she would have followed my life this closely, as I was sort of Arendtian, and she would have read these books. Huh. She’s an actual genius.

These boys, not so sure.

I thought, there was something about the Seth books that rang as a possibly good fiction. One of these cool theoretical novels around Death leading someone through a flash. The idea I came up with, in the end, was — death is going to lead someone through an awakening… something. Anyway, sometimes, I can’t quite stomach thinking about it… but who knows, maybe in my book, I’ll recount what this chapter was, at a strict distance. If the guru wants to know, as he believes I was divinely inspired, that my birth was literally divine, I don’t think all that is literally true. I don’t think that I needed someone up my ass about being repressed… or whatever the fuck that was. He should stick to his lane, he needs to be knocked down a couple of pegs. Like, you lost the video game. Game over.

But that’s where this idea came to me, and even my ex best friend is going to … strangely… the one who started fantasizing about being in a motion picture… when this screenwriter came into my life, imagine? He’s going to get attached to death, the character, for real. He’s going to want to PLAY him even, as a budding Buddhist preacher, something. Imagine? “Oh I thought I would play Death,” he’d slip in… a little later on this chapter. Isn’t that fascinating? Anyway, I’ll break down what happened. I carried that character… for a while… confused by it, it became a place where I dealt with what I was coming to realize… I just needed to find a real person. The guru was terrible. He had no heart, literally none, that man has no heart. He just backed away, didn’t say anything, other than, “A really good psychological device?” It was as if he wre trying to kill me. And his brother, do do do, in outer space, these men, is talking to me about “the ultimate guide.” Death is the ultimate guide. Yes, I guess, people have used death as a character…

Let’s see, once I get there, as I don’t feel like conceiving of anything right now, what that means. And you’ll see, this man was on the other side of the line… throughout this year that my life ended… and you’ll get a perspective on someone who has no heart and possibly no soul.

“But first you have to become the extraordinary man…” with his fake tone, you see, over a book? I was already an extraordinary man, dipshit. You’ll see — I can see the FIVE STARS flashing across the screen or appearing on a poster. JOHN MALKOVICH IS AMAZING, TERRIFYING, NECESSARY, THE ROLE OF HIS CAREER, that this story is about A POST SOCIAL WORLD, THE DANGERS OF MANIFESTATION REVEALED, THE DARK SIDE OF TIKTOK FILTERS. AMAZING. Emma Stone’s in it. Experimental. That’s all I see now around him… just silence and many stars about how dark our obsession with manifesting and bending reality — can become. Is it real? Is it literally true? I didn’t need to be triggered on that level. That’s one of these deep deep triggers I have, like, I did not need crazy shit. We went through an unnecessary amount of drafts… I said, the title is Holy Idiot. WHY did he even feel the need to start tossing titles at me? Look, it was crap, it wasn’t a book, a story… just say that. He’s selfish, he’s a bitch, a little bitch, to be frank about it, a little bitch. It’s not a big deal. He was so precious about his feelings. Speaking of someone who needs to get some help… HE isn’t THAT SPECIAL, as he projected so much SPECIALNESS ONTO ME to an unnecesary degree. Like, am I LADY GAGA? You think I’m Lady GAGA meets Joyce Carol Oates? Something? This is your…wisdom… based on nothing. Just based on my looks…? My personality? I’m looking at the ghost of Barbara Harris currently, and she stays, her ghost, because this man said, “the line between life and death is arbitrary…” so she literally stays. We’re deciding what I’m going to cook for dinner. We’re just moving through the mundane… no offense, but Dave Chappelle? In all seriousness. If he were listening to all this, if he had been there, he would have called this guy “a little bitch.” Thankfully, I had seen his work, because I thought, wow, finally, “that guy was so unreal…” watching comedy… not just Chappelle. But I realized, just what an UNREAL person this man was, and I didn’t even see it.

But there might have been some interesting ideas in there…

Anyway, I am exploring, I think, just the idea of a book that has… a Forrest Gump quality, that takes place over time… so you can get the whole journey of it. This is where I’m going to end up—

So the sun is rising… I woke up thinking, I need to make an effort to go out, a lot. I need to see shows, comedy shows too, now that I have a schedule, for the moment. I still need to find more work, another job, and I can’t get a receptionist job, even, which, I don’t know what to say, if I KNEW someone, I could probably get a job like that. If I had been a receptionist, wrote on my freetime, didn’t spend my money, I would have been able to buy a house. Like, I get this guru BELIEVED I WAS DESTINED FOR BEL AIR…but based on how I was living, that’s not true, that’s not how I was acting, idiot. Holy idiot. That’s the book about this guy. I hope I get there, I hope I am able to purchase a home in BEL AIR. Maybe I could start a kickstarter that all the celebrities on earth would participate in so I can buy the house that’s DIRECTLY NEXT TO HIS SISTER. That would be fantastic. RIGHT NEXT to his sister. In BEL AIR. YOO HOO. So let us hope, let us hope that even the Obamas will make a pledge — donate money so I can buy the hosue direcly beside his sister. LIKE RIGHT THERE. I’m getting into the car, I’m going about my business. It doesn’t MATTER, the money, the HOW takes care of itself…and so, why not? A kickstarter that Kim Kardashian is supporting. I just need some millions, nothing more.

Anyway, you never know, but I could have operated differently, and been in a wealthier position, just by working with what I had. Enough with the star talk. Again, their obsession with reality creation was a pitch too high. Thanks for ruining my life — you fucking dipshit Hollywood screenwriter. I hope the world knows.

I have to get out there now, I thought, this morning, in waking up and tapping away… still. I’m letting go of… a truly heartbreaking decade… and I’m simply looking at notecards, I have a job, and now I gotta go build a life… staying clear of whatever these strange gears were, not even knowing if they would still EXIST because I am no longer 30, I’m 40. Not the same thing.

And this dickface is calling Margot Robbie a “7,” in Australian terms. Okay, look dickface. I’m not doing that. I suppose I should have judged him, right? Where exactly would HE fall on the hot scale? YEAH. Barbara Harris in a ponytail – I Dream of Genie. Should have been done. She’s MY genie, in my Aladdin. MAKE WAY FOR PRINCE ALI…truly, this guru…believed I was PRINCE ALI…going to show up, Joyce Carol Oates amused I hope, with a book! “Hey clear the way in the old bazaar, hey you!”

“Prince Ali…”

“Genuflect, show some respect, for no reason at all… now try your best to stay calm…” that’s what the guru did, like, be a star… who gives a shit how it happens, why, etc.

Yikes, anyway, that chapter aside, I hope I reach true and enormous success: make Oprah laugh. Barbara Harris could have played I Dream of Genie most definitely. She could have played a genie. That one made me laugh as I had a fun time imagining all the characters she could have played. And I’m, really, Aladdin. I’m not Jasmine. I suppose I was a Belle? I can’t…totally tell, as this man thought I was — attractive? Didn’t seem like it. Scary, if he did, as he confessed his love to me in the MOST obtuse fashion, over a lost DVD, somewhat role playing my father, or making IT about him? Disappointing him? Like, the guru thinks he’s that important to me???????????? You see?????????? So many question marks. He decided that disappointment was the base feeling, whatever this was, between my father and me, so he called the lost DVD a psychological set up to disappoint him. That was one of his most deranged moments. TO THEN tell me, “you’re SPECIAL,” imagine? And he intends to keep his perspective, as if he doesn’t want to PLAY my game? Dude, I’ve never been in this game. Just to let you know. Never been in this game. Not unless he will forever be associated with a child molester, you see, a story about that. He most certainly didn’t act WELL. That wasn’t WELL. He breathed in dramatically, gestured to himself as if he were a robot on a stage playing to the nosebleeds, “you cannot disappoint me” and he gave it to me with a shaking hand. “You have my love…” I was 100% confused. Standing on a fucking sidewalk in Beverly Hills. And this is where I see the PRAISE from the critics ROLLING IN— OSCAR. THE MOVIE OF THE YEAR, OUR TIMES. It’s about everything — GENDER, POWER, HOLLYWOOD SCANDALS. It’s the ring to rule them all.

So, he was actually in love with me?

And, so, I’m here now, I have to keep learning, I even saw a range rover on craiglist for 4k — like, why not? Just reach for lifestyle, right? I’m laughing. I truly am. I saw puppies, which I wish I could get right now.

I’m rebuilding from the ground up, so maybe I’ll get night bulbs…and I keep thinking about just — a better life than living in someone else’s apartment, if that makes sense, remembering what my ex closest friend said about the Chelsea.

Like, a better mattress, right? Changed my life. A deck. Like, um, money is REAL guru… not knowing what to do with his pompous attitudes, he was really dangerous… he might not understand how deranged he is. To anyone on the outside, he’s deranged. I didn’t deserve, after everything I’ve been thorugh, which this guru also shat on, he shat all over me… and how dare that man? because I was a beauty? So you know what, he can take his comment about Robbie and shut it — an ogre. He’s an ogre. A narcissist, I don’t know. He’s a psychopath for sure, like, don’t go there… don’t listen to him, don’t seek his guidance… not if you’re a woman, one he finds attractive, I don’t know. I can’t even begin with this asshole.

But I woke up today, after spending an evening with notecards, thinking, I have to put myself out there. I’ll figure out what the EPIC piece is, how to pitch it, but I did not want this to be my life… and I will probably end up confronting the guru for sure, you see, did he rape me? Might as well, right?

But I was thinking this morning, I need to make it a priority — go out, see shows, as I would like to put on a show, and meet people, get social.

I was thinking about my next Moth… and I was hovering over Family Matters, as that’s a theme coming up, and then, DC said, “Parting” in my mind… and I thought, oh, that’s good, like saying GOODBYE to that family, GOODBYE to it all. I could probably tell a better story in that theme. So thank you DC, for helping me fine tune… my choices here. It goes to show, like, go find people who you like, learn from them… so I’m going to try that, if I get on. Parting. I have a couple rehearsals planned this week.

I wish I could relax, to be honest, at this age… I wish I could kick back, but I can’t. I’m not in that position. SURE I COULD BECOME HARRY POTTER WITH THIS BOOK, but be real man— Jesus Christ! How that fuck was that supposed to HELP ME? I’m aiming — for the house RIGHT NEXT TO HIS SISTER. I’m aiming to get to know those people at least, be invited over eternally for coffee, whatever it is I need to do — to BE — RIGHT NEXT TO HIS SISTER so I can watch him… just watch him. Maybe my dream will come true. If there’s a God. And according to him, my birth was divine, what a lunatic. Anyway, we’ll see. There are MEN will great destinies. I may be one of them, opening two doors at the same time, moving through manors in England… with a posture of importance. For what? No one knows. I’m just generally the MOST important person on earth. A artist of IMMENSE caliber. WHAT I do, this is not important. THE IDEA, it’s all about the IDEA, to the GURU. And here come the FIVE STARS from the critics. Just SMASHING. WOW! This is truly the movie that captures the insanity of today, as I begin, hilariously, trying to figure out social media… get out there and be somebody after I get out of the hospital… that’s the ONLY thing this mother fucker says. NOW, he says, get on social media? It was, truly, as if this man wanted to destroy me. He’s a terrible person, okay? A terrible person, just like his father. His father sounds like a really really terrible guy who fucked anything and everything that walked. No worries, my mother was the same person, smiling.

So yes, I’m going to get going, I’ll read, work on these notecards, see if I can apply for jobs. I don’t know what to say, really, I don’t really want to write… I don’t want to write for magazines… so I’ll keep making my transition. I saw Isabella Rosselini last night, like, she was let go by Lancome when she was 42, and she ended up getting a Masters and making short films…. so that inspired me, to embrace the next chapter. I’ll probably go into film, try to. I’ll keep figuring it out. Anyway, coffee time. I need to make some plans, too, I need to make plans next week, go out, see shows, figure out this aspect of my life. The next chapter. I hope I write something that makes a splash… I hope so. He might have been a narcissist, but then, so was my closest friend, that’s what he called himself, which was… not someone to get involved with, in other words, though I just read an article about that condition, people really taking charge of their illness, so maybe he should think about that… my friend… as well as the guru… no care for other people’s feelings.

He really deserves a slap across the face. One that hurts. Or does he like that? You feel me? Does he not feel anything at all? I wondered if he did crazy shit sexually, something, like DOMs. Not to say that’s crazy, I guess, I just wondered about his — terrifying treatment of me. Maybe he’ll piss off Oprah, one can only hope. One can only hope that PRINCE ALI will play through Beverly Hills… and he’ll know that I am coming with major back up. One can hope.