I love my plants, I need to finish furnishing my room, which I’ll do over time, but first and foremost, I need more work, a better job, just a job. I’m trying to think trajectory. It’s like the guru’s brother said, “I can see you writing for the New Yorker,” but based on what? He even said, “I know you’re a talented diarist…?” I really didn’t understand these men at all but they lived in a universe in which you were just some piece of clay that they molded to their whim. Or, psychic sense.
Anyway, don’t relate at all. I hardly read the New Yorker, but who knows? If that’s the case, I could have directed my arrow differently, like, what do you actually want to write about? You guys, no offense, my family story brought me — all of you, all these men, so why would I want to write about it? I suppose I can keep coming up, and I can keep figuring out what to say… but I shut down. I was disturbed by what my family story, and even wanting to write about it, produced in my life. It’s a comedy.
I am going to meet up with a friend today for a coffee, which should be nice, a new friend, and I’m going to turn my wheel into beauty… I have some products coming from my nails, so I’m going to see if I can start a YouTube channel. I like beauty. I might end up moving my stand up and stuff onto that platform. I don’t get Instagram and neither did the guru… I mean, yikes, telling me, after I got out of a hospital to get on Instagram. Maybe I have some fun clips from that period, but it was as if he actually liked me, and thus wanted to kill me, that’s what I think it was. That got scary. I get he wasn’t INTERESTED. I just, truly speaking, his feeling almost killed me. Like, he never gave me suggestions, right? To a degree where I have no clue what this guy was doing, but maybe he went through a hard childhood? I have no idea. Then, he would SLIP something like THAT in… totally insensitive.
I was in the Christmas in Naples is a Sport universe, where he shoved THEY FEED YOU down my throat. Disturbing.
I don’t know if most people would want to talk about a sex scandal over Instagram? I mean, that story is shocking, thinking about the guru, who was chilling, he really really freaked me out. I don’t know, that man felt so gratuitous — I don’t know if that’s the word, it’s early, but it’s just… heavy. I felt my interactions with this man took me — far far away. Wasn’t the time to travel. Wasn’t the time to see my cousins, this guy acted like he doesn’t know what cousins are, like he doesn’t have cousins? Imagine if a cousin showed up after the hospital?
I wish I never ever became a writer, said I wanted to, I wish I said, yup, in law school, all good, about to get married, see ya. At 30. Watch out. If you’re a beautiful woman, watch out, I was shocked, if you come from CrazyTown, watch out, because you might attract drugs and cult leaders. I imagined telling Aunt Jane that these people called me a shaman… I have wisdom to share… well, the first thing is, that was the most confusing experience. Getting here. Maybe I’ll figure out a graphic page, something, I’ll keep figuring it out. I hope to make a break, obviously…
I don’t know what interested the guru about that story, that’s a question I have. What exactly interested him about it? Now, I feel clearer, as he was so arrogant, so withheld, so guru like, like HE had the answer, I just had to get there… uhhhh. If I see that guy, beware. I will chew him out. I will confront him. One of these. Someone who truly speaking was deranged. He harmed me, yes. So fuck you. Basically. And what will he run away, ignore me, ridiculous. “Did it look like I had a problem?” His obsession with problems. He had a real obsession. I get “drama = problem.” Dude.
I still feel this compulsion to write, so here I am, because there’s an audience out there…it’s very uncomfortable. And no, I have to say this to myself, in my mind, I do not want to know any of these people’s opinions. The men I met. No thank you. I shut that down, within myself, not like I’m confused, but they were certainly only interested in themselves. I’m still evacuating the future shit as it’s very stimulating, this idea that there’s a probable future in which you get the role, get the job. It’s just, ugh, it feels like boys with video games, getting all wrapped up in stupid shit, when I’m a GIRL, I want to have drinks and buy perfume, I’m sorry. This was not fun, and most certainly not sexy. At this point, I’m just jumping by the coffee dispenser at work, thinking, should I do a monologue? Shaking out the FUTURE. GO away. JESUS. “The fucking future.” Pedro in view…giving me a look. Not again.
I could play a funny woman who just got out of a cult. She doesn’t know if she was raped, you know? At this point… moving past Pedro, the busser. “Probably, hunny.” Maybe my colleagues might lend a hand, like Matt saying, “I mean probably…” and Pedro is folding napkins. “Si Mama, si.” He thinks so. Danil doesn’t know what to say. These restaurant people gathering around me as I struggle with the future flashback — I can’t even send an audition tape without getting stimulated by the talk shows I’ll be on, sitting there with my head in my hands, just wanting it to stop and yet so heartbroken, because these men don’t know what it means to take something to HEART. I didn’t want this! Truly. I had NO ISSUE with any of it!!
“No,” Matt doesn’t hesitate. Aya appears. In a Japanese accent, she says “what?” Matt says, “it’s the future again.” Aya can’t STAND this. “Oh.” Japan. “Maria has acid flashbacks but about the future being created upon thought…” Danil wonders how my romantic life is going. “I’m just…” Matt finished my thought. “Taking it step by step.” Jesus, “yeah,” Matt isn’t hesitating. “I’m sure.”
He thought I looked like I just got out of cult. “I could be a shaman.” Matt nods. “I’m psychic.” And there everyone goes, at the same time, “are you?” Interested. I look at them like, come on… and there, everyone gets hooked, “like what can you do?” Danil, he’s not convinced. “These people thought you were pretty, right?” No, but apparently I was psychic, I might have have some interesting experiences, to be fair, I just ended up in the hospital, soooooo. I was a goddamn mess with this truly insane guru flying off the handle. “Doesn’t matter how much the rent is…” I mean, who the fuck was this person? Being told that I went through an awakening? What kind? Or Carl Jung’s The Red Book. I mean, just these men’s responses explains it all.
“Why is this man telling me that I am repressed?”
And my story remains some vague entity — uh oh, I need to throw up again… I’m in the bathroom, a bartender hands me a soda with bitters. “The psychic period.” That ruined me. It’s like, looking at Matt, “would you give me drugs?” “Probably not.”
“Aren’t you sort of… a sensitive person?”
“Oh no…” Matt is going to look at me. I was a sweet soul, yeah, I didn’t understand. Of course I am not perfect, but none of these men are looking at themselves and saying the same thing. And his question is, “did that guru take advantage of you?”
Ugh. I don’t think so, I don’t know how that would possible, “he sounds really really weird.” Eric, the big man on campus, he’s saying, “wasn’t a good idea, Maria.” He would be played by a Brad Pitt, he wouldn’t think of himself that way, but he’s a hot guy, with a shrug, no worries. Just because, YIKES, like who gives a shit if he’s hot? Truly. I wonder if he’s experienced just weird shit because of it, like he’s just… there. He thinks there are hotter people out there, and “they are,” Matt would smile.
Anyway, playing around this morning as I might try and write scenes.
I need a career, and I don’t know anyone, just thinking about my choices here, and I don’t know how to meet people, so. I’m going to have to think—events, I think. Openings. Art openings. Stuff like that. I’m going to have to try and figure out where to go. I really wasn’t that obsessed with my family story, no offense to the guru, he totally mistook me for some weepy girl who was looking for a guy she didn’t want to sleep with but talk to about all this? I mean, that’s not boyfriend material. I am not discussing this with my boyfriend. Weird move to make if you just were attracted to me? Or were you just attracted to my background? It appears very strange. All in Beverly Hills. Imagine Sacha Baron Cohen playing this person? Oh? Getting interested in some young woman…over THAT story? Taking a deep breath and pointing to me across the room, channeling the catepillar in Alice in Wonderland?
“KNOOOOOOOOWWWW….”
Yikes! And my boyfriend, right? Think Amber Heard in Pinneapple Express, the MOST normal person, shaking me out, “wake up!!” He struck me, he really did. That was NOT cool. And I really really really want to get back at this person, you see, because that really cost me — years of agony. “Carl Jung’s the RED BOOK?” Look, I am out of the box, I mean, thinking about Cohen, the man, wanting to teepee his house. It might be ridiculous but… holy shit! That guy was crazy! Picture Cohen nodding, “yes,” absolutely, “you get bleedthroughs from different times…” as in eras. He got it. Now picture some super emotional Einaudi track, “you cannot disappoint me you have my looooooveeee…” just what the fuck was this relationship? It was the weirdest — and then, in the end, he’s going to tell me:
“Who gives a shit what I think?”
Imagine? Horror. Like why did you bother me to begin with? Anyway, I hopefully will live in Beverly Hills, or throw a block party… RIGHT when he takes his walk. Without warning or hesitation. Secret. He deserves a slap in the face.
ANYHOO, acid flashbacks: was in a sex scandal when I was four, no biggie, though with a smile, you could picture me as a kind of Joker after all this. So again, while I was on the floor grappling with all that had happened, I saw that, so maybe I should go for it. I’ll keep going. I should concentrate on making my own work, I think. Just because, at least, I’ll build up a body of work… but I’ll start a beauty channel, sure, as I’m going to try a bunch of products anyway, so… and I guess I’ll have a singing channel, I thought about that. Maybe a family channel? Crazy Families… I suppose I could start a podcast, “crazy families…” crazy stories. Or “this actually happened.”
“That’s fucking crazy.”
I’ll get all that going. I don’t know what’s going to work or not… but I have to think about one thing I can do, so I think I’m going with my call-in psychic persona. I’ll plan a few episodes. They’re not that long… so I’ll do that first. That way, I’ll practice making a script. I can’t imagine them being anymore than a couple minutes. Which is good. That’s what I’ll do next week, once I’m over my weekend of working. I just want a regular job, so I can feel a bit better about myself. I can have as many channels as I want on YouTube.
Like, there’s gotta be some audience of people with truly crazy families, they evidently exist, and maybe the guru is one of them… maybe his family is truly crazy. I don’t know what else that could be… unless they have mental health issues… hard to tell there. I feel Aunt Jane’s presence quite strongly, and she was — the toughest bitch that could obliterate you where you stood. What a total lunatic.
So, look, um, I haven’t gone to an open mic in a minute, as I am trying to figure that out, if there’s anything I can do there, but I’m still developing material, it’s been 5 months since I got back. I’ll try and get these editorial pieces I’m working on, one with Barbara Harris, one for Hannah Arendt Medium, and the EPIC one, which is my top priority, as it’s about the “undercover investigation,” in a very serious tone, that I “launched,” also my word, into this situation I was just in at the Beverly Hills Tennis Club. Knight Rider… that’s the theme. I’ll try to get those done by the end of the year. I’m going to apply for this job now, to see if I can just find something that takes care of my basic problem, and so I can operate a little more normally, though, regardless, I would try and keep my night job, as I work 3 nights a week, to make extra money as I figure out a better way to make extra money. We’ll see.
In any case, I will be making a real effort to stop blogging… let go… because these gurus, whatever their philosophy was, it was almost like a drug. I’m attempting to MAKE IT and GET SUITORS for what reason? I sit back, and tonally, think about the story that kicked off this relationship, and I go, I just don’t get it. His approach. The slytherin was right — I did not need more pain. I did not need some asshole on Santa Monica Boulevard in Beverly Hills wanting to HELP me become a star?
HE didn’t GET it, I think, just like me, everyone else. It’s just that people ACTED like they did. I did too, I guess. I don’t know what to do with that.
I’m so frustrated with myself today, because I’m having a hard time dealing with what my former self did, in just trying to get a goddamn job. It’s like, these dudes I got involved with just look so stupid. I was, I look stupid in my mind, not like I would tell her that, I mean, it’s just… there’s no trajectory at all. It’s fine, I can steer, I’m just extremely frustrated that I wasted my time… on some “guru’s” beliefs… on how to create reality… and I just hold a space for myself because I got so heartbroken.