So, okay, feeling depressed today but singing usually makes me feel better. I’m singing with Yaniv today, seems like a nice man, and I’m in the underground…running my lines for a scene class at Columbia for directors. I play a bunny. I understand why, Zootopia is so popular, as we’re all animals, or you can relate to the characters that way. I was cast as the wannabe cop bunny. A sweet animal, bunny, like don’t be mean to it.
I can’t quite figure this out, looking at notecards. I didn’t need to have the guru wrapped up in this story, so I’m trying to dismantle this person, as he wasn’t a support tool. That’s not what he was. Like I can feel his presence in these moments, not exactly a supportive.
Helps to state that.
Anyway, This is a story about how a girl who investigates a sex scandal she was in to then question everything she knew? Okay. Not so sure.
I have to break down these beats — my mother reflected so much truth, and when it came to rape but specifically child rape, since that’s what I was thinking about, like incest? What did she reflect about coming from one of “these stories?”
I have to take it step by step.
Like, my father said that all he knew about her was that she was “shipped around to different family members beginning when she was two because her sister beat her…” I couldn’t help but notice that I had been sent away, in a way, as this situation held fragments to her real past. Did the present situation reflect a real past? Why did she do this?
So that’s a scene. I was fascinated, just fascinated, I couldn’t look away, what was this game? Was that a lie, a cover up for something darker? Was there a real child molester, Dr. J once upon a time?
Because, when I was four, I knew what rape was. I had to conclude watching my mother teach me how to throw up (???) in a bathroom… like, I might have been four, but I had my wits, that she might have seriously been raped, younger than I was. I might not have been able to conceive of the details, but it didn’t look good.
She ran into church every Sunday accosting the priest with her rapes… and her theatrics discredited her, as she was almost TOO outrageous, but it was more, what she reflected about the subject that drove me to investigate it. In the words of my father, we were picking her up nightly for drinking, driving, and looking for sex downtown, which is when my father….decided to go on vacation for 5-7 weeks. Hm?
“Imagine?” Angelica Leibowitz said. “Imagine lying about that? About your own husband?” She was aghast. But wasn’t it already a lie? Wouldn’t it require lying?
Anyway, I always feel defeated, like I can’t do this. But like what’s clear to me right now is the middle - funny enough - like, once I get to the spectacles - the happy go lucky dances we put on for him - the spectacle of it becomes clear. She didn’t want to send me to foster care, and I mostly likely would have been abused there, so…? I saw so much truth in this story. It didn’t sound all that unbelievable to me.
So I might hover around that section of it.
So: I might try, my notecards:
“She told me rape,” that scene at the club.
I’m watching the game… the tennis game right now, basically saying that this situation opened up a door I could never unsee; psychology. So I launched an undercover investigation at not even nine years old.
The first question I asked over and over again was “did I really live with you for four years?” And I was so young that I kept repeating the same questions, because I was D. J’s daughter, so I knew that people could change their stories. People are liars, aren’t they Dr.J?
Can you describe what you said to her? As I had alerted her, and so she turned to my mother and offered that they would set up a playdate one day. “I did not mean this day.” And Dr. J pops like a jack in the box… and pulls a crazy move that makes her question if she’s joking…you never knew with her as she appears to crack on a particular line…
she couldn’t even imagine someone lying about that, Angelica said, about your own husband?
In my chair, I thought, eyes on the game? Isn’t it already a lie, Dr. J? Wouldn’t it require lying? Wouldn’t that fuck you up? Real bad? As she didn’t seem to posses distinctions…between lie and truth…
My father - all he knew was that she was shipped around to different family members for the first ten years of her life… because her sister beat her, at two years old. Was that a lie, a cover up? I couldn’t help but notice that I had just been sent away in a way, as if this situation held fragments of a real past?
Anyway, I’m done for today. I don’t know what to do with this yet but I’ll keep on going to the drawing board.