You know, I can’t help but get angry sometimes, yes, I have rage, because it’s hard enough, having had my whole world fall apart about my family. My whole life. And I think about this Hollywood screenwriter in Beverly Hills lifting his arm at me as if he were a guru…in this location. Just remembering this relationship, I am so embarrassed. Like, why is he telling me “the energy is rising” over a draft? “Can you ride the wave?” “You’re spinning it up?” Over a book. Like I’m supposed to write “the book” through energy waves? I just can’t. I’m listening to Whitney Houston, I’m drinking sparkling water, and I went through a total rage today. I really did. I was feeling great actually, but I outlined my story, and there it was: was it true? And I expressed that to a friend, just that I wasn’t feeling THAT great about it, and I got no response though I have her texting me a lot, and that was frustrating to then get knocked over by another friend when it was unnecessary, over a video that I posted a month ago maybe, I don’t even remember it, as I was just trying out material, not really trying to think about it actually, and then, I got a message from another friend wondering “what’s going on,” and I’m sorry, but I had a rage spell.
Anyway, there’s my new pianist — texting me, we have a date. Happiness. Hope. New directions. I need to be in my own space for a while. I’m going to have to decide what’s next in my life. And I guess, I have to finish this story, because I’ve come this far, and it feels though it caused me so much anguish, that it’s not even worth it, but I hope I find the purpose in it again, as I thought it was potentially an impactful one, pedaling through Central Park, trying to not lose my joy, get it back, and forget the guru even existed, eternal sunshine. I got to go to work, and I didn’t need to get triggered by my friend today and yesterday and again today — three people. And you know what they say, you have to stop trying to get something from somewhere you’re never going to get it. So, I have to accept that. I’m going to need to put on a face, ask people for space, and just leave quietly. In the words of Elaine Stritch: “next Tuesday at the country club? 11 am? Look for me…” she won’t be there.